


The Slayer of Harrowstone

by brokenmimir



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dungeons and Dragons - Fandom, Pathfinder RPG
Genre: Action, Carrion Crown Adventure Path, Gen, Ghosts, Haunting of Harrowstone, Horror, Investigation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 82,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenmimir/pseuds/brokenmimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy wasn't fast enough and Willow was able to deconstruct Dawn before Buffy could save her. Now Buffy has been thrown into the world of Golarion, but her search for a way home is complicated by a sudden death...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

“ _Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth.”_  
– _The Necronomicon_

 

**The Key and the Gate**

 

Everything was wrong. Everything. It had all fallen apart. Spike had tried to... Spike was missing. Tara was dead. Willow had gone nuts and was overloaded with dark magic. Willow had tortured and killed Warren. Everything had fallen apart.

Buffy kicked hard, the door smashing open, revealing a horrible scene. Dawn was cringing, terrified, and standing in front of her was a pale skinned, black veined and eyed version of her best friend. They had drifted apart after her resurrection, but despite all of the pain that she had been drowning in, Buffy still loved Willow. Seeing her like that hurt. It was like facing Angelus all over again, as once again Buffy had to fight someone she cared about.

“I think you need to get away from her,” Buffy said fiercely.

Willow smiled calmly. “Don't worry, I'm just about done.” Dawn screamed as Willow gestured, and Buffy's sister became outlined with a nimbus of green energy. The glow brightened, and soon Dawn became translucent, an outline of green energy in the shape of person.

“Buffy!” Dawn screamed, her voice full of terror and pain.

Buffy had killed for her sister, she had died for her, and even on her worst days since her resurrection she had climbed out of bed and lived for her. She hadn't been right since her death, a nearly constant numbness seeming to separate her from her own emotions. But in that moment, as Dawn screamed, Buffy felt all of her love for her sister, her flesh and blood. Dawn was a part of her, and she was dying.

“No, Dawnie!!!” Buffy screamed, diving forward. She touched Dawn, her hand going numb, her entire body jolted as though she had touched a live power line. Buffy screamed, her own voice joining with her sister's anguish as Willow completed her spell.

“Wait, why can't I... oh no....” Willow said, her voice shocked. Willow was a powerful magic user, but no one in the entire dimension truly understood the Key. She had thought that she could simply drain her as she did Rack, and in that she was very wrong. Willow had activated the Key, but had done nothing to properly control its powers, simply believing she could absorb them. As Buffy touched her sister, reality began to warp, and before the witch could do anything to stop it, time and space fractured, Dawn falling completely apart, the magic giving her human form collapsing.

The last thing Willow heard before she was knocked unconscious by the backlash of the Key exploding would haunt the witch for the rest of her days. Even Dawn's scream of pain as she decorporealized was nothing compared to the sheer anguish in her best friend's voice as Buffy watched Dawn fall apart under the onslaught of Willow's dark magic.

Before Buffy could do anything she found herself pulled into the crack in reality that had once been her sister. Fortunately, the stars were not properly aligned for the true use of the Key, and so moments later the rift in reality sealed itself. When Willow awoke, she found that the backlash of her failed attempt to absorb the power of the key had taken the dark magic from her, just as it had taken her best friend. Buffy and Dawn were gone, and it was all her fault. Too drained to absorb more power, she simply lay weeping until Xander and Giles found her.

 

* * *

 

Buffy had suffered much in her life, and her strong will had always seen her through any trial. She was grimmer, harder, and far sadder than before she was called, but she still remained mostly whole and sane after many years of standing between humanity and the darkness. But no matter how strong willed she was the only reason that she retained her sanity in those first moments was that she was so completely overwhelmed by the loss of her sister that she was unaware of anything that transpired. Her eyes stared unseeing into the empty chaos of the Dark Tapestry, but she remained unaware, and thus undamaged.

As she floated in the timeless void between nothing and everything, a glowing aura of green energy slowly spread from her hands up her arms and across her entire body. “Close your eyes,” a voice whispered in her mind. Slowly, mechanically, she did so, trusting her sister with her life.

“D... Dawnie?” Buffy choked out.

“Shh... it's okay, Buffy,” Dawn's voice seemed to surround her, coming from everywhere and no where all at once. “I'm here.”

“Where... Dawnie... I saw you die...”

“I know,” she said, her sourceless voice sad. “But I'm not just Dawn. I'm the Key as well. And I can feel it now. I'm more... and less. I'm returning to what I was before the Monks of Dagon summoned me to your world. Soon I'll rejoin the rest of my being, and I will be Dawn no more. But even when I no longer exist as myself, I will always love you Buffy. You may be human, but you are my sister, and this time I get to save you. You are within me, and I'll take you somewhere safe. I wish I could take you home, but its going to take time for me to reintegrate fully into myself, and until I do I won't have enough power to open a new way home for you, and if you stay here, even with your eyes closed you'll go insane. Mortal minds can't cope with this place.”

“No, Dawnie... please... I love you,” Buffy choked, tears pouring down her face.

“I know, and I love you too,” Dawn said, her voice gentle. “So much. As the Key and the Gate I never loved anything, never had a concept of love. But you and mom taught me that. And I'm okay. _This_ is the work that _I_ have to do. This time, I get to save you. I'll never die, but I won't live anymore either. So promise me, Buffy. Promise that you'll live for me.”

“I promise.”

“Then I'm okay. Don't cry for me Buffy, because I'm okay. I can feel how much this hurts you, but everything is okay.”

Buffy felt ephemeral lips place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I love you Dawnie,” Buffy said. “And I promise, I'll live. I'll live for you.”

Even through her closed eye lids Buffy saw a bright flash of green light, and suddenly she felt a sensation of falling. With a great splash she hit cold water. Swimming to the surface Buffy gasped in air and looked up.

Above her head was a tear in space. Around it reality was bulged and distorted as though the cloudy sky was painted on a cloth that had ripped a great tear. Inside the tear Buffy could see a great black void speckled with glimmering stars. Whenever her gaze focused on one point that star seemed still, but whatever she failed to focus upon slowly moved about, dancing dizzyingly before her. The thing that caught her gaze, however, was a vast set of enormous shimmering spheres, iridescent like great soap bubbles, which, despite being spread about above her, pulsing and shimmering, gave her the impression that whatever it was was in fact a single great entity. As she stared up at it a single green sphere slowly drifted away from the tear, moving back towards the remainder, and Buffy knew, looking at it, that it was her sister. Her gaze remained locked onto it, even as she knew on some deep, subconscious level that its gaze was locked upon her, until finally the tear in reality closed, leaving Buffy stranded alone in a strange dimension, treading water in a cold lake.

 

 **Author's Notes**  
I decided to start with a different jump off point for a crossover. Basically, Buffy was a little slower finding Willow during the Season 6 episode Two to Go, and Willow had already started to use her magics on Dawn. I took Buffy's first line from that episode. As Lovecraft fans should hopefully recognize, I'm saying that Dawn is in fact a fragment of the entity called the Key and the Gate, also called Yog-Sothoth. The quote from the Necronomicon comes from H. P. Lovecraft's story “The Dunwich Horror”.

This story uses material from the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game. As per their policy, I'm adding the following disclaimer, which applies to all of their material used within my story:

This work of fan fiction uses trademarks and/or copyrights owned by Paizo Publishing, LLC, which are used under Paizo's Community Use Policy. We are expressly prohibited from charging you to use or access this content. This work of fan fiction is not published, endorsed, or specifically approved by Paizo Publishing. For more information about Paizo's Community Use Policy, please visit paizo.com/communityuse. For more information about Paizo Publishing and Paizo products, please visit paizo.com.


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**An Illmarsh Welcome**

 

Cold water, Buffy decided, was cold. Not just a little cold. Really cold. Even with her slayer abilities, Buffy felt her limbs growing numb as she tried desperately to swim to shore, weighed down by her waterlogged clothes. Even worse, the sky was swiftly transforming from merely cloudy to stormy, and the wind whipping across the lake made her task even more difficult. Buffy soon noticed, however, that she wasn't the only person having problems.

Not too far away was a large wooden sailboat with a single mast being tossed about by the increasingly rough water. An older man with wild white hair and a bushy white mustache was the sole occupant. He had strange, multicolored goggles on his forehead and was wearing a stained leather smock as ran about, trying to adjust the sails and man the tiller at the same time, a task made impossible by the worsening weather conditions. Buffy hesitated for only a moment, before changing course to meet the boat rather than continuing straight for the shore.

Pulling herself on board, Buffy saw that the boat was very different from the sailboat her family had once rented for an outing when Buffy was much younger. It was far more primitive, reminding her of something she would see in a movie about pirates more than the sleek, white ship she had sailed on. The majority of the boat was taken up by a large object covered by a tarp and tied to the deck by lengths of heavy hemp rope.

“Who're you supposed to be, then,” the older man said, pausing for a moment at the line he was adjusting, turning his wild, sleep deprived eyes from the task to stare at her.

“Um, shouldn't we worry more about the whole out of control ship thingy?” Buffy asked, smiling innocently.

“Ah, good point. Well, do you know how to sail?”

“I went once when I was little, but no, not too big with the sailing.”

“Well, I'm not much of a sailor myself, but with an extra pair of hands I'm sure we'll get by. I'll work the sails, you grab the tiller.”

Having seen the man work while she swam to his boat she guessed that he wanted her to go to the stern, where a wooden plank stuck out and could be pushed to one side or the other to steer. Jogging over she looked at it where it moved sharply back and forth as the ship was tossed about by the oncoming storm. Grabbing a firm hold, Buffy easily held the ship steady, keeping it sailing straight ahead instead of meandering with every gust of wind.

“Good, Miss. Keep her straight for the dock ahead, I'll work the sails!”

Keeping a firm grip, not wanting to repeat her past experience at the wheel of her mother's car, Buffy concentrated on keeping the boat steady as they approached a stone quay extending a short distance into the lake. It was obvious to Buffy that the man wasn't an expert sailor either, but with her help they managed to bring the boat safely to rest, her companion swiftly jumping across and tying the boat to the pier before smiling at her cheerfully.

“Thanks, Miss. I couldn't have done it without you. The name's Horace Croon.”

“Buffy Summers. Why were you out there by yourself?”

“I had hired some locals to work my ship so that I could test my subaqueous exploration and research vessel, but they dove overboard and swam for shore when the storm got close.”

“Subaquatic explor-what?”

Horace grinned and jumped back on board the ship, dramatically throwing back part of the tarp. “This! My greatest invention! The subaqueous exploration and research vessel!” The object was made mostly of brass with large sections of iron as well. It was shaped like an enormous round goldfish, complete with metal fins and a tail, large glass portholes for eyes, and a gaping mouth which granted access to a tiny compartment with several cramped chairs. “This will revolutionize underwater exploration! With my invention we are no longer confined to the surface, but able to go anywhere under the water that we desire!”

“A submarine?” Buffy said, shocked at its appearance. It was incredibly primitive looking, but at the same time extremely complex. She wasn't sure how it worked, but she doubted it used gasoline or batteries.

“Hm, submarine,” Horace said thoughtfully. “Not a bad name, but it doesn't quite have the ring to it that subaqueous exploration and research vessel does. Probably won't catch on, although...”

Buffy looked at the man as his eyes glazed over lost in thought. Just as she was starting to wonder if she should say something, it began to rain. Not a light, gentle shower, but the full force of the powerful storm that had driven them quickly across the lake. Squawking, Buffy dove for cover under the tarp, already shivering from the cold water that still soaked her form.

Horace crouched next to her under cover. “So Miss, I can't help but think that your clothing is a mite odd for swimming.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, picking at her soaked black top. “It wasn't exactly planned.”

“Aye, I would guess as much. I didn't see a boat either.”

“Well,” Buffy said, smiling nervously. “I'm not sure you'd believe me.”

“Oh? Not just a simple teleportation accident then.”

Buffy blinked. “No. Um... not so simple.”

“I'd guess from your clothing that your from a very far away place. Nowhere in the inner sea...” He trailed off, eyes glazed, lost in thought. Buffy shuffled awkwardly for a minute. “No, not likely there either. Hmm. Dimensions are said to have always run a little thin in this part of Ustalav. Are you even from this world?” Seeing her hesitation, he smiled at her reassuringly. “Don't worry, Miss. If you hadn't come along I don't doubt my ship would have run aground, so I'm in your debt. Most people would be wary about someone from the Great Beyond showing up, but I can tell your a kindly sort, so I won't say anything. In fact, when the rain lets up, I'll set you up in my house for an evening. You look like you could use a warm bath and a bed, and its the least I could offer. Some new clothing too.”

“Thanks, you don't have to...”

“I know, Miss,” Horace said with a kind smile. “But your not likely to meet many other kind folk in town. Illmarsh is a bit of a queer place, and they don't like people from out of town much, much less from out of world. Besides, if I'd run aground it could have damaged my invention and cost me hundreds. So really, I'm in your debt.”

It didn't take long for the rain to stop, and when it did Buffy climbed out from under the tarp and found her breath taken away. Across the lake was an enormous rainbow, seemingly stretching from horizon to horizon. It had been a long time since Buffy had really looked at the world and saw beauty, but despite the heaviness of her heart, she found herself admiring the display. She just wished she could share it with Dawn.

“Aye, thats a pretty one. Welcome to Golarion. Come on, lets find my horse cart.”

Buffy started to follow him before freezing. “Wait... horse cart? You mean car, right? Right?”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, when Horace said horse cart, he meant horse cart. She had been hoping until then that the submarine and boat were simply eccentricities, but seeing the cart struck home with Buffy that she was not in her own world. While she had already crossed automobiles off the list, she was desperately hoping that not everything was primitive. A world without indoor plumbing was a world not designed for Buffys, she concluded with a nod.

The three mile cart ride, in addition to making her wish shock absorbers had at least been invented, also made her familiar with the... interesting smell the area had. To the north of the dirt road was a swampy forest that stank with a dank, mildewy odor that seemed to pervade everything, the stink palpable even with the strong breeze blowing in off the huge lake.

When Horace had said that Illmarsh was a small town she had pictured Sunnydale. She was greatly disappointed at the dilapidated sprawl before her. Likely holding no more than half a thousand people, the majority of the buildings were little better than split log cabins, crudely finished with sod and mud. In addition to the stink from the nearby swamp, the town's only real industry, fishing, added its own exciting odor in the form of the stench of rotting fish. It was only long experience tracking demons through sewers that kept her from reacting with more than a wrinkled nose.

Fortunately Horace's home, a sprawling affair of simple wooden construction near the entrance to town, was at least well made with properly prepared wood and a tile roof. The inside was overrun by strange objects of glass, wood and metal. Looking around, Buffy was bemused to find herself standing in some kind of mad scientist's lab from a movie, although of much simpler manufacture. Taking a long look at her companion, she decided that it probably fit him.

It didn't take long for Buffy to get herself cleaned up and bathed, although to her consternation she found that, indeed, there was no indoor plumbing to be had, and, although fairly clean, everything stank of mildew and stagnant water, even the clean towel and sheets for the guest bed. The smell wasn't the only thing that kept her up, however. She had concentrated on moving forward, but suddenly, with nothing to do, she found herself remembering what happened. Tara was dead. Willow had turned Dawn into... something not human. All of her friends were in a different dimension. Not long ago she would have been glad to be able to cry, since it would have meant that she was at least able to feel something. Now, as she quietly sobbed into the smelly pillow, Buffy wondered why she had wanted to so badly. It was a long time before she fell asleep.

In the morning a subdued Buffy found her benefactor puttering about his workshop, toying with a cluster of brass tubes that presumably were some invention. “Morning,” Buffy said quietly.

“Ah, good morning Miss,” Horace said, still working on the device. “How are you today?”

“Peachy with a side of keen. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

Horace finally turned his attention to her. “Like I said, you saved my boat yesterday, and that would have been very expensive to repair. In fact....” he stared off into space for a long moment, before getting up and digging a leather pouch out from under a collection of metal panels on a side table. “Here you go,” he said, tossing the bag to her.

Opening it up, Buffy was surprised to find a collection of gold, silver and copper coins. “What is this?”

“Thats about half of what I'd estimate it would have cost to fix any damage running aground would have caused. And no, I won't accept it back. I've made plenty of money from my inventions over the years, and you obviously need the money. That'll get you well set up.”

“Thanks. I don't know what to say.”

“Then don't say anything.”

After a breakfast of heavy black bread, a strange flavored fish sausage, and some over crisped bacon, Buffy set out for the only store in town that would sell what she needed. Walking down the street, Buffy found herself subjected to numerous glares. The townsfolk seemed even more intransigent than Horace had implied, and, even if Illmarsh hadn't stunk, she would have been glad to leave the place.

The general store was a cramped, filthy building, with a broad counter near the door and a wide selection of cheap goods covering every available surface. The proprietor was a middle aged man who smelled even worse than the rest of the village. He was wall-eyed, and his face had a distinctly unpleasant cast to it even before he leered at her, revealing his crooked yellow teeth. Buffy shuddered.

“What'a'ya wantin'?” he said, his voice a hoarse croak.

Buffy looked around. The quality of the merchandise was not very good, but it was fairly wide ranging. Casting a professional eye over the various weapons, Buffy decided that they weren't a bad selection, but nothing there really jumped out at her. While obviously intended to be used, nothing was of terribly high quality, and the knife and stakes she had hidden on her body would do for now.

“I need some good clothing. What do you have in my size.”

Snorting, the man spat up a glob of phlegm before pulling down the things that would reasonably fit her. Looking around, she grimaced at the lack of space, and simply checked the clothes by holding them in front of her, as there was no way that she was going to strip in front of the filthy shopkeeper. The clothing was made of wool and leather, and was very coarse and rough, but finally she got a few changes of clothes, and a backpack to carry them in. Looking around, she also purchased some basic camping and travel supplies, since Buffy doubted there was a bus, and she really didn't want to stay in this town forever.

Returning to Horace's house, she changed into the stiff brown leather pants and a scratchy green wool top she had bought, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Even worse than the discomfort of the coarse material was the smell. She had been in this town for less than a day, and now she stank like mildew.

Sitting down for lunch with Horace, they ate quickly, the meal being scarcely better than breakfast, although it was plentiful. Finally pushing his empty plate away, Horace looked at his guest. “Well Miss, your hair isn't too common a color around these parts, but your dressed right for Ustalav, so you won't stand out too much. Have you figured out what you want to do?”

Buffy swallowed another bite of fish sausage. “I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me, but I really don't want to stay here forever. Only, I'm not sure where to go.”

“Well now, that is a good question. Since you don't know anything about where to go, how 'bout what you want to find?”

“Well, I want to get back home. But it's not in this dimension.”

“Aye, that is a problem. That means you'll need powerful magics to get back, and not too many would do such without seeking some recompense you may not be interested in payin'. Unfortunately, I've spent most of my life here in Illmarsh, so I don't know many who could be of help to you. Your best bet I think would be to head to a major city and ask discrete questions. Even if you don't find anyone able to help, a mage or scholar from somewhere bigger might know someone who can.”

“Yeah, I guess your right. This isn't going to be easy is it.” Buffy looked down, discouraged.

Horace chuckled. “No Miss. It'll be quite a quest I'd say. But if you ask me, the sooner start the sooner end. Its a four day walk to Thrushmoor, which isn't overly large, but its certainly bigger than Illmarsh. From there you can get better supplies and really start to seek what your looking for. I can give you a cart ride as far as the quay in the morning, but after that you'll be on your own.”

“Four days?” Buffy frowned, looking down at her feet. “Good thing these are comfortable boots.”

 

* * *

 

Four days, Buffy decided, was a long walk, no matter how comfortable the boots. Her blisters agreed with her.

Buffy had always been very much a city girl, so days of sleeping outdoors with nothing but the lake to wash in and cheap, scratchy clothing to wear had put her in a foul mood. The only bright point had been her departure from the swampy, smelly forest known as the Soddentimbers, after which she took a long, though cold, bath in the lake to finally get the smell off, before huddling shivering over her fire. She was very proud of her fire. It had taken nearly two hours to light the first night, and had gone out not long after she had finally drifted off to sleep, but it was still a fire started with little but flint and steel. Fortunately, by the time she reached Thrushmoor she had at least mastered keeping her fire going, as long as the weather was dry. She didn't want to think about what her trip would have been like if it had rained.

Unfortunately, Thrushmoor was extremely disappointing. Nearly ten times the size of Illmarsh, it was still a tiny, ugly town with little to recommend it. Built along the lake, the majority of the buildings showed signs of repeated flooding. Even those that didn't were terribly weathered, making the city look as though it were well into the process of rotting away.

The inn that she found to stay in was run by what Buffy discovered were called halflings. The man and his wife were around three feet tall, looking like tiny people, but with large bare feet covered in curly hair and long pointed ears. They reminded Buffy strongly of the hobbits from the movie that Xander and Willow had dragged her to see in the theater. Her heart stopped for a moment at the reminder of back home, but Buffy quickly plastered a smile on her face and acquired a room for the night. It was clean, and actually smelled that way, and after a steaming bath and a change of clothing into her slightly less dirty set, Buffy headed down to the common room for a hot meal.

Sitting at an empty table, Buffy smiled as the small proprietress brought over a large bowl of stew. Taking a spoonful her eyes widened. “Yum!”

The small woman smiled. “Thanks, dear. Its an old family secret recipe.”

“Its so good!” Buffy shoveled the food into her mouth, days of trail rations making her all the more appreciative of good food.

“So, whats your name?” the halfling asked curiously.

“I'm Buffy.”

“Buffy? Thats a lovely name, dear. My name's Piria.”

“Nice to meet you, Piria. Most people don't seem to like my name.”

“Really? More fool them, then. Its a pretty name for a lovely young woman. And you've got a good appetite too! Let me get you some seconds, and some bread besides! Just look at you, all skin and bones! You've got to stay a while and let me plump you a bit, dear.”

Buffy smiled bashfully. The matronly halfling, despite being completely dissimilar physically, reminded Buffy in some strange way of her mother. She felt a small pang of hurt at the thought of her mom, but for the most part she felt warmed by the attention. It had been a long time since she had been taken care of, instead of being the one doing the caring.

Buffy dug into her seconds with gusto, before smiling at Piria again. “So, what's there to do around here?”

“Not too much. Thrushmoor's always been quiet. Most people are fisher folk, and do honest work. 'Course, the town's been a bit quieter of late.”

“Why?”

Piria leaned forward conspiratorially. “The disappearances! This month, four children have disappeared! It's awful. Parents aren't letting their kids out of sight now, and everyone shudders to think about what may have happened to them! Dreadful business.”

Buffy frowned, her slayer curiosity aroused. “No one knows what happened?”

“Not a thing! They just disappeared from the streets. Only one child said he saw summat, and I dunno if he did. He claimed a gray man grabbed his friend and carried him off, but as no one else has seen anything, it could just be his imaginin's.”

For the next two days Buffy learned all that she could about the town. The innkeepers, despite not being human had been very kind to her. Unfortunately, they seemed to be the only ones. While not as strange and actively off-putting as the people of Illmarsh, Thrushmoor was little more welcoming. The main difference was the reduced amount of malice in the glares she received from the people on the streets.

After getting a feel for the character of Thrushmoor, Buffy took the time to spend most of her remaining money on some good clothing. She had been tempted to pick up one of the fancy, well made swords or axes available from several blacksmith shops, but the cheap homespun tops she had bought in Illmarsh, in addition to being scratchy and even after washing a bit smelly, were cheaply made and already showing wear after her short journey. Her new clothing, while not the most fancy or expensive, was of better quality and actually fit her well. She chose practical, tough clothing, mostly made of leather to stand up to any combat she would find herself in. On her second day in town the weather was slightly cooler and the clouds threatened rain, so Buffy impulsively purchased a blue hooded cloak from a street vender. She thought it looked a bit silly but it was warm and would help keep her dry.

As far as finding a way home was concerned, her time in Thrushmoor had been less than successful. The town didn't seem to have any magic shops or obvious practicing magic users, and any questions about such things were met with distrustful glares and ominous whispers from passersby. The best that she could find was that the next town to the north, Rozenport, was supposed to house a school of some kind. Investigating the missing children had been equally unsuccessful, with few willing to discuss it with an outsider, and those who would not really knowing anything of value.

As evening on the second day set in, Buffy was trying to decide if she should keep investigating, or, with the difficulties she was facing getting any answers in such an insular community, asume that the town could handle the situation with the missing children and simply head north. As she was thinking she froze as a terrified scream echoed from the next street over. Slayer instincts kicked in and she set out at a dead run towards the commotion. A hysterical middle aged woman proved to be the source of the screams, and a large crowd was gathered around her. Buffy drifted into their midst, ears open.

“I saw it,” a man said. “It was all gray and hunched over, with big clawed hands. It snatched the girl and ran into the sewers!”

“Please,” the woman screamed. “My baby! It took my little girl!”

Buffy didn't hesitate. Hearing that a child was in danger she simply pushed through the crowd and jumped into the open sewer grate, not even slowing down for a moment. The tunnel below was dark and, much to her lack of surprise, smelled like a sewer. Walking with all of the silence of a slayer she drifted forward, her eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light that still drifted into the sewers in the early evening.

The tunnel was straight for a time, and long experience with following things through dank sewers allowed her to pick up the trail almost immediately, even in the dim light. The creature seemed to walk on the balls of its bare feet and she could tell that it had short claws on its toes. After about ten minutes she finally felt it tickling at her spidey-sense. Making less sound than a mouse, Buffy finally found her target. Or rather, targets.

The room was large for a sewer, about thirty feet by thirty feet, and was packed with ugly gray skinned creatures. They were hunched and starved looking, their skin pulled tightly over their bones. They all had long claws and mouths full of sharp fangs, as well as beady soulless black eyes. Most wore little more than scraps of cloth and tattered garments barely covering their emaciated frames.

At the center of the room was a battered wooden table, and laying still upon it, though still breathing, was a little girl of about eight years, her arm bloody from a small scratch. Standing next to her was one of the creatures, but it looked different from the rest. Its skin was the purple of a recent bruise, and its eyes burned with a cruel malice. Instead of being barely dressed in torn rags it wore a loose gray tunic which was finely kept except for the bottom which was shredded and ragged from just above the knee down to where it hung to the floor. This central creature eyed the girl and then began to speak with a high cold voice. “Before we feast on her living flesh, we must sanctify our sacrifice. This is the fifth child, and with her our work is complete. With this final sacrifice, our goddess will grant our fervent prayer and spread among those above a plague of that shall scour the living and make them ripe for our consumption!”

“Feast!” the crowd chanted. From the back the creatures began to slowly chant in a foreign tongue, many others taking up eerie whispers, or simply rocking in place, moaning.

“In the name of Urgathoa I bless our sacrificial feast, that from the living blood of this final meal a plague shall arise into the living world above!” The chief creature's voice rose through this statement, its head falling back, eyes closed, body shaking with religious ecstasy. While it was distracted, Buffy made her move, throwing a stake with deadly precision. Unfortunately, whether by luck or some divine providence of its dark goddess, the creature rocked to the side as it made its benediction at just the wrong moment, the sharpened wood sinking into its shoulder instead of its heart, cutting off its prayer with a pained howl.

Buffy jumped into the room, leading with a flying kick to the back of the closest monster, her foot shattering its spine and sending it to the floor. Before anyone could react she drew her dagger from her belt and stabbed left and right with a single smooth motion that put down two of the shocked monsters instantly.

Despite the effectiveness of her opening gambit, Buffy found herself in danger quickly. The creatures were fast and strong, not as much so as a vampire, and nowhere close to Buffy's level, but enough that with their numbers they proved a terrible hazard. Forced onto the defensive by the sheer number of attackers, Buffy stabbed and spun, keeping them at bay but only inflicting shallow wounds in return.

It was slow, but she was wearing them down, or so she thought, when suddenly the leader chanted something, and she saw the small wounds she had inflicted seal and the attackers press forward with new vigor.

Buffy cursed under her breath, eyes narrowing. The leader had used some magic to heal its followers, which meant that it was the main threat. Unfortunately, she was pinned in, and if they could be repeatedly healed, she was in trouble. Shifting her stance slightly, Buffy suddenly leapt forward blade first, burying the hardened steel into the skull of one of her enemies, switching tactics from defense to offense, putting down an enemy permanently with a single blow. Spinning to stab another in the side, Buffy grunted in pain as one of her foes took advantage of her aggression to claw her back. Kicking backwards hard enough to shatter its knee, Buffy spun away from yet another attacker as the one behind her howled, clutching its broken leg.

It was then that she noticed the spreading feeling of coldness from the wound, her face twisting in a grimace as she realized that the creatures claws had some kind of poison or other effect that was slowing her down. Gritting her teeth she shook it off, before spinning low to sweep another enemy from his feet. Ignoring him, Buffy dove forward, taking another in the gut, tumbling and using his screeching form as a shield as she crashed through the crowd of enemies towards the leader.

Rolling to her feet over the dead body in a single, smooth motion Buffy leapt forward dagger first at her foe. Eyes widening in shock it finished another chant and stood tall locking gazes with Buffy with a glare. Its black pupils seemed to suddenly grow in her vision, threatening to swallow her whole. Inside the black depths something terrible stirred, a great presence that, for a single moment seemed to rise before her, more terrible than even the Master had felt when she first confronted him. But only for a moment. Baring her teeth, Buffy continued her leap, ignoring the effect entirely as she led with her dagger, stabbing down at her enemy as its eyes widened in sudden fear.

Unfortunately for Buffy, the creature reacted in time, bringing its arm up to block. Around its forearm were black leather bracers that seemed to reflect no light. Striking it hard with all the power of her leaping blow, Buffy was shocked to hear a loud clang as her dagger snapped in half, breaking the blade but leaving no mark on the bracer.

Taking advantage of her shock the creature reached out a hand and touched Buffy on the arm before she could pull away. The touch was almost gentle, but suddenly, from every pore that it had touched, blood began to ooze down her arm. Screaming as she fell back, Buffy kicked the creature hard in the stomach, sending it flying across the room.

Rolling back to her feet, her hand clutching her bleeding arm, Buffy surveyed the situation. Ten of the creatures were still up, all of them seemingly unharmed as they charged at her. Drawing a stake she glanced in the direction of the one that she had kicked, her eyes narrowing as she could not find it, the shadows in the room seemingly denser in that area, hiding its form from her quick glance. Turning back to the ones attacking, Buffy threw her stake, dropping one as the piece of sharpened wood took it in the heart as she drew two more, stabbing the first monster to arrive as she began to fight once more.

The fight raged back and forth for long moments, Buffy managing to drop two more before being hard pressed once again by the crowd of monsters. Tripping one, she moved in for another kill before suddenly diving to the side by pure instinct. It was a good idea, as the place she had been suddenly shattered as the leader dove forward once more, its barehanded blow enough to leave a small crater in the stone floor.

Buffy stabbed at it once more, but it spun with an eerie grace it had been previously lacking as it lashed out at her once again, clipping her with its claws, the glancing blow to her shoulder being enough to twist her body around, leaving a deep wound which, like the earlier scratch, spread a frightening numbness through her body. Wasting no time at all, Buffy rolled with the blow, her body spinning into a wide kick that send the creature flying once more as the slayer tumbled across the stone floor, stakes taking two more of the monsters in the chest, putting them on the ground. Bouncing to her feet Buffy flipped over the head of the next creature as she ran towards the leader once more. It had pulled itself to its feet as well, and was slipping into a corner, the shadows in the room thickening as it did so. Pressing her lips together, Buffy kept her focus squarely on it, her keen slayer eyes allowing her to follow the spot of deeper darkness as she ran.

The monster realized its attempt to hide had failed and so it stepped forward once more, claws at the ready, body coiled to meet her charge. Grinning fiercely Buffy dove low, but instead of going for a tackle she caught herself on her arms and threw herself into a handspring, her legs now leading her at head level. The monster had expected her to come low, and so for an instant it was completely open. Wrapping her legs around the creature's head Buffy twisted her body, using all of her momentum to spin about, breaking its neck with a crack that echoed through the chamber.

Tumbling backward, Buffy barely arrested her momentum in time to avoid crashing into the wall. Turning she drew another stake and glared at the survivors. They took one look at each other, and suddenly turned and fled. Buffy grinned with anticipation. With everything that had happened to her in the past week, the chance to hunt them down and vent her feelings with more violence filled her with a cruel pleasure. She would enjoy running them down, toying with each of them like a cat with a mouse, until none of the monsters lived. She would...

“Help,” a tiny voice said. Buffy froze, her head slowly turning to look. Sitting up slowly on the table was the little girl. The reason that she had gone into the sewers in the first place. Buffy swallowed hard, shame filling her; in her anger she had forgotten about the little girl that she had come to rescue.

“Hey,” Buffy said gently. As she came down from her bloodlust she suddenly felt the wounds that she had sustained. Looking at them she saw that only the claw wound to her shoulder was still bleeding freely, although slayer healing was slowly making headway with it as well. “Lets get you back to your family, okay?” If her smile was strained, the little girl was too relieved to notice.

 

 **Author's Notes**  
That concludes the first real chapter. Buffy has now arrived in Golarion, and I decided to drop her into Illmarsh, using parts of Adventure Path 46: Wake of the Watcher (Part 4 of Carrion Crown). I've also made major use of Rule of Fear, the setting book for Ustalav. This story is going to be rife with spoilers for the Carrion Crown Adventure Path, although it will only completely run the first volume, the Haunting of Harrowstone.

The creatures at the end were a pack of ghouls led by a ghast who was also a cleric of Urgathoa. That fight was frankly stupidly dangerous to get involved in, especially with no planning whatsoever. While partially she did it to save the girl, one of the reasons she jumped in so unprepared was a little bit of that old slayer death wish. After all, she really doesn't have much to live for right now. The information on Urgathoa came from Part 5 of the Carrion Crown Adventure Path Ashes at Dawn.


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**The Same, and Yet Completely Different**

 

Part of Buffy still worried that she found walking through graveyards and looking at the stars so relaxing. Before she was called she would have mercilessly teased anyone geeky enough to express an interest in astronomy, but after years of nighttime patrols she knew the stars of southern California as well as anyone. The sky above her was decidedly not the sky of southern California.

After rescuing the little girl and bringing her back to her mother, Buffy had found herself being briefly interviewed by the town guards. They had initially been highly suspicious, but after a few minutes of vague answers Buffy had been given a bag containing one hundred gold coins and was sent on her way. It had been a shock, but apparently someone had posted a reward for stopping whoever was behind the kidnappings, and slaying the leader of the cult of ghouls (as she was informed the gray creatures were called) was apparently good enough to receive it.

When she had returned to the inn, instead of a quiet dinner she had found herself being treated like a hero. It had been shocking for Buffy, but suddenly everyone who had simply ignored her before had been toasting her for having stopped the monsters. The townsfolk changed in their apparent regard for her so much that instead of the glares she had been receiving, everyone in town now gave her a smile and a nod. After years of being forgotten for her efforts in Sunnydale, Buffy was unsure how to take the attention. In the end, she had become so overwhelmed by it all that she had bought a nice longsword (at a discount) as well a few new daggers and had simply headed back underground to look for stragglers, since facing flesh eating undead monsters in a sewer was, to her mind, less wigsome than profuse gratitude. Especially since, while everyone was extremely kind to her face, she had noticed that many of them watched her very warily if they thought she wouldn't notice their scrutiny.

Several hours of hunting allowed her to kill two more ghouls, along with a rat of truly unusual size (more than three feet long before the tail), before Buffy had finally returned to the chamber where she had fought before. Nothing had been disturbed, and, although she had hemmed and hawed about it all night, in the end she had decided to take the super tough bracers the lead monster had been wearing. Several washing later she had finally decided to try them on, and she had found herself suitably impressed by them. They seemed to be nearly invulnerable, and when she wore them and wanted to avoid notice (the first time it had happened she had decided to slip away from a group of street kids that had been tailing her out of curiosity) shadows she was standing in would grow deeper to allow her to hide better.

Despite the more positive feelings the town held for her, in the end no one had been able to actually help her on her quest to find a way back home, so after another night in the inn she had decided to head north to Rozenport. Given the distance involved, and the new weight in her wallet, Buffy had decided to fulfill a childhood fantasy of every little girl in America by buying a horse. There was only one horse trader in Thrushmoor, and buying from him reminded her of watching her mom negotiate for a new car. Only with much more yelling. And inventive cursing. Eventually, with the help of some liberal use of her long practiced slayer glare, Buffy had purchased a somewhat chubby roan gelding that she had immediately named Mister Gordo. The horse dealer had stared at her like she was insane when she said it, but Mister Gordo seemed to like the name (or maybe the apple she gave him) so Buffy wasn't concerned.

Riding a horse had been both good and bad for her trip. In the plus column she owned a horse. Nothing more needed to be said for that advantage. It also cut travel time quite a bit, allowing her to reach Rozenport by sunset of the first day, and any day that ended with a hot meal and a soft bed beat out a night spent with cold rations sleeping on rocks. In the negative column, the only time Buffy had ever been on a horse was a pony ride when she was nine. Even with slayer healing and stamina, Buffy had barely been able to walk when she had reached the inn. She hadn't realized some of the muscles she had strained even existed, and even the ones that she knew about seemed to be angry with her on principle.

Her first full day in Rozenport had left her with a far more positive impression of the place than Illmarsh or Thrushmoor had. It was built on a series of cliffs overlooking a river, with all of the architecture having a strange, almost organic feel to it. The close together houses had high steeples, with several large flat roofed buildings breaking up the skyline, and at the center of town was a large dome roofed structure serving as a town hall. While the city looked strange, it was solidly constructed, and, despite its obvious age, the town didn't look, or smell, as though it was rotting away.

The people in the town were distant and impersonal, but compared to the active rudeness exhibited elsewhere Buffy found their attitude extremely encouraging. It had not taken long to be directed to the Sincomakti School of Sciences. Unfortunately, that was where her luck had ended. It had taken most of the day to charm her way through the red tape, and she had only had an hour to start examining the vast library (which to her relief was mostly composed of mystical books rather than chemistry and physics texts like she had first feared upon hearing the name) and had made little positive progress.

After a day filled with false smiles and then boring research, Buffy had felt extremely restless. Fortunately, a patrol through a town graveyard had already cleared her mind, almost enough to allow Buffy to forget her troubles completely by falling into the familiar routine. The only thing she had been missing was some action. It wouldn't take long for her to regret that particular regret.

Buffy had been about to wrap up her apparently pointless patrol when her spidey-sense finally began to tingle. Discretely looking around, Buffy saw no one, so she continued walking, her every timid motion proclaiming her status as prey. Finally, her patience was rewarded, as a tall, thin man wearing a fine tunic, tight trousers and a red cloak approached her.

“Hello, little girl,” the man purred. “You shouldn't walk around so late. Something could come along and just gobble you up.”

Buffy had been planning to take more time, but after that line she couldn't help herself. “Really? That's what your going with? I've heard bad, but thats just pathetic.”

The man hissed at her, revealing large fangs despite his face not transforming. “You'll regret that, little girl!”

Buffy smiled and pulled out a stake. “Nope,” she said, popping the 'p'. The vampire looked at the stake, seemingly amused. “What, no more banter? I've got a whole new world to introduce to my quipage, blood breath.” Growling again it locked its stare with Buffy. Its eyes were red embers in the dark, glowing faintly as they captured her gaze. For a brief moment everything became blurry, except for the vampire's eyes, which seemed to glow as brightly as the sun. From somewhere deep within Buffy felt her inner slayer snarl as she shook her head abruptly, breaking the thrall attempt. “If your done with the staring into my eyes portion of the evening, I'm really more of a fan of the physical stuff. With the fists and weapons. Not any other kind of physical stuff. Because eww. I do have standards.”

With a snarl the monster darted forward, growling audibly. It was fast and agile, but to Buffy's experienced eyes the vampire appeared to be little more than a fledgling. Smirking cockily, the slayer deflected its first blow wide and countered smoothly with a hard punch to its ribs. It grunted, before trying to swing again. Ducking under the hit Buffy launched a strong uppercut, sending the vampire reeling back as she stepped forward, landing hard blow after hard blow.

Buffy was unsure what to make of her opponent. Unlike her vampires this one seemed to all but ignore her hits, only barely reacting to blows that would have put down most vamps from her own dimension, forcing Buffy to shift into a wide boxing stance to maximize her striking power, blows strong enough to shatter concrete and powder bone only slowly telling. On the other hand, the vampire wasn't terribly fast or strong, and it lacked both the bestial aggression and the more intricate martial arts skills her own vampires seemed to naturally develop.

Knocking the vampire's arms wide with both hands Buffy spun low, sweeping its feet out from under it. Crouching instantly, Buffy smirked, slamming her stake home. The vampire grunted in shock, its eyes wide, before it collapsed to the ground, dead. But not dust. Buffy sat for a long moment, frowning. “Huh,” she said to herself, before shrugging and pulling out her stake. Just as she began to rise to figure out what to do with the body, it suddenly sat up and slammed its fist into her gut, sending her flying back several feet, the air driven from her lungs. A strange cold feeling flowed outward from the blow, and Buffy suddenly felt tired and weak. Looking up, she scrambled to her feet as the vampire towered over her, a leer on its face as its wounds healed before her eyes.

“I'm going to drink you dry then keep you around for that, little girl,” the vampire growled.

“I say again, eww. Is that the only way you can get a girlfriend?” Despite her bravado, Buffy was concerned. Whatever had happened when he punched her still left her feeling weak, and since staking didn't finish it off she wasn't sure what to do. Her opponent gave her little time to consider.

Charging forward the vampire swung its fist at her. Buffy managed to avoid it, but found to her dismay that whatever had happened had slowed her down. Not lethally, but enough to make the fight difficult. Stepping inside of its reach Buffy launched another powerful punch, seeking to soften up her foe again. Unfortunately, her strength seemed less as well, and while she began to once more make progress, it wasn't as fast as before.

The battle slowly stretched out between her and her enemy. Buffy had learned its entire repertoire of moves, limited as they were, and still held a significant edge in speed and strength. Unfortunately, the vampire was as difficult to inflict harm to as ever. While the fight was close, in the end the slayer should have handily won. However, in every battle, the vagaries of fate will always play a pivotal role, as they did that night. While Buffy gave ground to set up her next attack, she suddenly found herself slipping, the fresh earth of a recently dug grave unable to provide traction for her rapid movements. Normally she could have safely adjusted in a moment to the loss of balance, but for that moment she was vulnerable, and that was when the vampire struck. It had known it was outclassed from early in the fight, and so it had waited patiently for an opportunity.

The vampire stepped into her defense, ignoring the off balance defensive blow she lashed out with, punching her hard in the sternum, the blow sending her falling backwards into a tomb stone, smashing the stone marker with her back. Grunting from a combination of familiar pain and the unusual draining sensation the vampire's blows caused her, Buffy rolled to her feet limping, feeling weaker than she had in years.

Cartwheeling away from the vampire's next charge pulled at the injured muscles in her back, but Buffy ignored the pain, concentrating on staying alive. Analyzing all that she had seen, the slayer found herself concerned. The vampire was far more cautious than it had been early in the fight, and its wounds were healing before her eyes. She, on the other hand, was now noticeably injured, and with the strange weakness she felt from the blows she had suffered, she knew that the fight was far more even than she would like. Part of her was excited by that. The conflict had become dangerous, and she thirsted to test her limits, to take down a dangerous foe with nothing more than a stake and her fists. However, Buffy was wise enough to know that part of that excitement was also at the prospect of losing. As Spike had said, every slayer had a death wish, and trapped alone in a strange dimension, Buffy felt her own keenly.

She probably could have won the fight then. But in the end, she didn't need to. The town wasn't that large, and with the distance between towns, even if the vampire didn't pursue her it would be stuck in the area for at least another day, giving her a chance to hunt it down later, once she had a chance to heal and do some research. While Buffy hated being research girl, the failure of her staking told her she would need to do so in the very near future if she wanted to beat the local vampires. She had been arrogant, she acknowledged, assuming that just because she was the slayer she would run into no opposition capable of beating her in this strange new dimension. What finally decided her next move, however, more even than her own injuries and the difficulty of harming her foe, was her promise to Dawn. Too much of the reason to finish this battle here and now was coming from the part of her that wanted to lay down and die, and that alone was reason enough to withdraw.

Throwing her stake to distract the vampire, Buffy turned and ran.

“Coward,” it roared, painfully pulling the stake from its shoulder before it followed her. Slowed as Buffy was by her injuries she was unable to take much of a lead, and its pursuit was truly tireless. The slayer was limping heavily by the time she reached the cobblestone streets of Rozenport, the vampire well behind her but still following implacably. It was obviously willing to keep up its pursuit, perhaps even going after others if she managed to shake it. With a resigned sigh, Buffy realized that she would have to engage it again, and this time end it.

Dashing down one deserted street after another, Buffy finally slipped into an alley. Looking up, she jumped and pulled herself onto the flat roof of one of the buildings, her back protesting the effort. Crouching low in the shadow of a chimney, Buffy pulled out a stake as the darkness thickened around her, her new magic bracers obscuring her from detection.

The vampire kept up its pace, running into the alley, its red eyes darting about as it searched for its prey. Just as it ran past Buffy suddenly dove down, a hard kick taking it off its feet before her stake slammed down into it once again. This time, however, the vampire was more prepared for what she could do as it twisted its body away from the blow, the stake missing the heart by inches. Roaring, the vampire twisted about again, its elbow smashing into Buffy's side, forcing a grunt from her and knocking her off her perch.

Rising quickly Buffy drew her last stake and sent it downwards, catching the vampire in the thigh as it scurried away. Kicking her back into a wall again, Buffy stared in disbelief as her enemy scuttled across the ground and up the wall like a spider, not even bothering to stand as it moved impossibly upwards. When it neared the top it kicked off, twisting in the air to fly towards Buffy, its hards contorted like claws, its face twisted, slavering mouth gaping to reveal long fangs.

Fortunately, Buffy had won thousands of battles since being called, and many of them were against demons with even more surprising abilities and tactics. Pushing off her own wall Buffy quickly set herself, reversing her grip on her stake, before stabbing upwards. Unfortunately, the vampire managed to interpose a hand, the stake piercing it through, deflecting its angle enough to cause the stab to take the vampire in the shoulder, the vampire's counter blow smoothly blocked with her left hand's new magic bracer.

The speed of its dive and the sheer difference in size had led the vampire to expect to take Buffy off her feet regardless of the outcome of its own attack. Instead, Buffy held the creature off the ground with her stake, its momentum completely cancelled, before, with a twist of her hips, Buffy sent the vampire crashing to the cobblestones. Pulling back her stake she prepared it bring it down one last time. Unfortunately, just as she began her stab its eyes widened and her opponent transformed into a cloud of mist, the stake harmlessly passing through, the end splintering against the stones of the street.

Panting, Buffy leaned back on her heels, staring incredulously at the cloud as it flew high into the night sky and away to the north. “Great,” she muttered under her breath. “It's Dracula all over again.”

 

* * *

 

After her encounter Buffy had returned to the inn and slept deeply, her slayer healing taking care of her sore muscles, although her back was still a mass of fading bruises when she awoke. Groaning, Buffy slowly stretched out her injured body, before slipping into her Tai Chi forms. By the time she had finished, and eaten a hearty breakfast to help fuel her healing, Buffy felt like herself again. Unfortunately, being Buffy meant that she had to do research.

Buffy spent most of the day wandering between the stacks in one of the Sincomakti libraries. The books were filled with parchment or vellum and bound in leather, filling the room with a nostalgic odor from years of flipping through tomes of demonology with her friends. Pushing past the pang of sorrow, Buffy focused on finding out all that she could about the local vampires.

Buffy had never worked very hard in the past during research time, and she found that she knew the languages used for less than a third of the books in the library, but eventually she made some progress. Apparently, the vampires of Golarion, as the world she found herself in was named, were nearly impossible to harm without silver or magic weapons, and even blows from those weapons couldn't kill one, as any injury that should slay one only caused it to turn into a cloud of mist to flee back to its coffin. Buffy snorted in disdain when she read that. She had always felt that vampires spent far to much time in graveyards, but to actually sleep in coffins was just a walking cliché.

A stake to the heart of the local vampires would incapacitate them, but if removed they would simply rise again unharmed. To actually kill one, Buffy would need to stake and then behead it before applying holy water to the head. However, sunlight was also lethal, and so apparently was running water. The thought of giving a vampire a shower to kill it made Buffy giggle for a moment, before she stopped in shock, as it was the first time she had done so since her sister's... discorporation, and doing so felt wrong to her.

The attacks of a vampire apparently could drain the life energy from those they hit, which explained the strange weakness that was only then slowly going away. Like her own vampires they also drank blood, and they apparently could turn a victim simply by draining them of blood or life energy, without having to suck the vampire's blood to be turned. Vampires could also dominate the minds of victims, as her attacker had tried to do, as well as climb walls as she had seen. The more powerful vampires could also summon packs of rats, bats or wolves, as well as transform into a wolf or bat. Fortunately, they were repelled by holy symbols and mirrors, could not enter homes uninvited, strangely had no shadow to go with no reflection, and could not leave their coffins during the day. Unfortunately, Buffy only discovered that particular weakness too late in the afternoon to really begin a search for the vampire's nest.

Near the end of the day Buffy finally realized she had spent the last thirty minutes trying to read the same page over and over again before deciding to take a break. The first thing that she did was slip out to a blacksmith's shop and look for a silver weapon. She was surprised at first at the selection available, as she had never even imagined a silver bladed halberd before, but in the end she could only afford a single silver dagger. So armed, Buffy returned to the college and found a cafeteria still serving food.

Buffy had only been eating for a few minutes when an older man dressed in ink stained but finely tailored gray robes with gold rimmed spectacles on his face smiled and sat down with his own tray across from her. “Good evening, Miss. I am Doctor Henri Meirtmane, Dean of Expeditions. I don't believe I've seen you here before.”

“Nope. I'm Buffy Summers. Just got here yesterday.”

“I see. I noticed you were making your rounds through our bestiary section. Are you doing research on a creature in particular?”

“Well... I didn't come here to research monsters, but I encountered one last night, so...”

“Ah, yes. Good show. The best sword is a well prepared mind, and knowledge is the best whetstone, if I do say so myself. Tell me, what did you run into? The fabric of planar lucidity runs thin in this region of Ustalav, so you can encounter many strange things here.”

“Well,” Buffy hesitated for a second, a lifetime of keeping vampires a secret being difficult to ignore. “I was attacked by a vampire.”

“Truly? There hasn't been a confirmed vampire sighting in centuries in Ustalav!”

“Um, yeah. Definitely with the vampirism.”

“Hmm,” the professor said, examining Buffy closely. “You don't appear to be bitten, and apparently you overcame the vampire's domination abilities. Most impressive.”

“How could you tell?” Buffy asked.

“Those who have been dominated are driven to fulfill their orders to the exclusion of all else. Now, I suppose its possible you weren't given any commands, but it would be rather odd not to at least be told not to speak of your attacker.”

“That makes sense.”

“If you find where the vampire is nesting, I would be most interested in examining its lair. If necessary, I can bring in enough mercenaries to clear the place. I have several students that would be interested in the research opportunity as well.”

“Err... I'll keep that in mind.”

“Indeed. Since it would be of aid to me, perhaps I can help you? What did you come here to learn, before you found yourself sidetracked?”

Buffy looked around for a moment. “This might sound strange, but... well...”

“Don't worry, my dear. Nothing you say can shock me.”

“I'm not from this world.”

The doctor's eyes bulged for a moment. “I see. How unusual. There are many accounts of course of visitations from the Great Beyond, but aside from the occasional fiend or monster I've never met someone or something from another world.”

“Well, I'm really not from around here. This witch cast a spell... there was an explosion, and then I was falling through... somewhere. Then I fell out of a hole in the air into that huge lake.”

“Extraordinary. Unfortunately, I'm not an expert on such matters, though I will make some discrete inquiries for you. However, you may be in luck. I received correspondence from a colleague recently, a Petros Lorrimor from Ravengro who is supposed to be visiting soon. Actually, I expected him a few days ago, so he should arrive anytime. If anyone can help you find a way home, it would be him.”

Buffy flashed Dr. Meirtmane a blinding grin. “Thank you! I'll be sure to talk to him.”

Buffy stayed in the library researching until closing time, and once again after it closed she strolled through the nearly deserted streets back to her room at the inn. Somewhat stiff from a combination of injury and a day sitting in wooden chairs staring at heavy books, Buffy asked for a bath. The workers brought a large wooden tub into her room, and then took a number of trips to bring buckets of steaming hot water. Thanking them with a smile, Buffy locked her door and luxuriated in the hot water.

Ustalav, she decided, was apparently some kind of Golarian Hellmouth, which made sense as it was probably easier for her to arrive there than elsewhere. The numerous monsters that apparently prowled the region made her strangely nostalgic, and resting in the hot water Buffy allowed herself to really think back to her home for the first time since she had arrived.

Xander and Buffy had made peace over the Spike situation shortly before everything fell apart, and she missed her old friend's solid presence in her life. Spike had disappeared, which was partially a relief, as her last encounter with him had gone so terribly, but at the same time she found herself missing him. He had been a soulless vampire, but no matter how ugly and abusive, with distance she could admit to herself that however freaksome and unhealthy it had been, what she and Spike had had was a relationship.

Tara had comforted her when she had needed it, helping her when she had finally broken down over her loss of heaven and her messed up relationship with Spike. The gentle Wiccan had been a good friend to her, and the thought of her death hurt her terribly. She shouldn't have died so young, especially from a bullet meant for Buffy.

Dawn shouldn't have... died... so young either. Other than her father, who hadn't even bothered to show up to her mother's funeral, Dawn had been the only blood family Buffy had left. She had known for years that she would die young, but Dawn shouldn't have. Buffy had thought of her as her legacy, the part of her that would live on, and for that to end was devastating. And for Willow to have done it. Buffy had always forgiven her friends for what they had done, but destroying Dawn... Buffy couldn't. She couldn't move past that, she thought, as she quietly cried salty tears into her hot bath. Her best friend had killed her sister, the person she loved more than anyone in the world. She cried for a long time.

Finally she dried off and dressed, before asking for the cooling bath to be removed and a small meal to be brought up. Unlike her previous inn in Thrushmoor, the food was merely adequate, but it was hot and plentiful. Digging into a thick, chowder-like fish stew, Buffy lost herself once more in thought.

Slowly she ate, putting the spoon mechanically into her mouth over and over again. Her eyes unfocused as her hearing slowly grew as vague as her blurry vision. Her body became numb, and she felt strangely seperated from herself. Thoughts were difficult to come by, and those she had came slowly.

Minutes passed before Buffy realized that she felt something with her slayer senses. Staggering unsteadily to her feet, Buffy drew a stake and stumbled to the door of her room. Flinging it open, she saw a tall, beautiful woman with dark hair and extremely pale skin, dressed in a finely tailored floor length gown and exquisite jewelry. Locking her blurry gaze with the vampire's glowing red eyes, Buffy found herself lost in the red glow, until nothing else existed but the crimson radiance.

“Come,” the vampire said, before gliding imperiously down the hallway.

Drugged and thralled, Buffy followed.

 

**Author's Notes**  
That's another chapter down. Pathfinder vampires are very different from Buffy vampires, although they have a strong resemblance to Dracula. Beating one in physical combat without a magical or silver weapon is almost impossible, but Buffy hasn't survived as a slayer for so long for nothing.

Readers may notice that the name of the College is in fact an anagram. I rolled my eyes when I saw that in my copy of Rule of Fear.

Buffy also acquired her first magic item in this chapter. She now has Bracer's of Armor with the Shadow property. It just wouldn't be a D&D derivative without a plethora of wondrous items.


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**A Friend in Dark Places**

 

The next several hours were extremely fuzzy for Buffy. She had been drugged with something that affected her mind and reduced her to a stupor, making her all but unaware of her surroundings. On top of that, a vampire had then thralled her, enslaving her weakened will. Everything was fuzzy, and she could barely concentrate on anything for more than a few moments. Shadows seemed to shift and move on their own, and the only thing that mattered was the calm red glow that told her to follow. Sometimes she wondered what she was following, but everything was too vague to worry about anything for long. She just followed... whatever the blurry shape in front of her was.

Eventually she stopped, and a voice spoke, echoing in her ears and in her mind. “Stay here. Do not try to escape.” Buffy nodded vaguely. She knew what she had to do. She had to stay. It was hard to stay standing, she thought as she swayed drunkenly. Toppling over, Buffy grunted in pain as she fell on the stone floor with bruising force. Curling up on her less abused side, Buffy drifted away from lucidity once more.

Hours passed, drifting by without care or notice, merging into fragmented moments of almost understanding. Whenever she drifted closer to full consciousness, Buffy could hear a man speaking to her, rambling about things she could scarcely fathom. A cold, damp cloth was pressed to her forehead, and at times a cup of cool water was offered to her dry lips. Buffy was sure that she rambled back to the voice from time to time, but to her dying day she would never recall her words or even what she talked about. Finally, after another drink of water, Buffy succumbed to blackness once more as the man's voice prattled on.

Nightmarish dreams filled her drugged mind as she slept, vague recollections of nameless horrors felt all around her as she fell through the trackless dimension on her way to Golarion swept across her addled mind. Finally, her surreal dreams faded as she felt herself being pulled back to consciousness.

“Oh good,” the man's voice said. “You're awake.”

Buffy slowly opened one eye, then other, wincing as the dim light assaulted her dilated pupils. “Who?” she rasped, her mouth dry.

A glass was held to her lips and she drank the clean water. Licking her lips she tried again. “Who are you?”

“I am Professor Petros Lorrimor.” Buffy finally focused her eyes on him. The man who had apparently been caring for her looked to be in his early 60s, with mostly white hair framing a kindly face, although his dark eyes were worried. The man was dressed in plain travelling clothes of simple style like she had seen often since her arrival in Ustalav, although his appeared to be of a finer make than most, if more stained and rumpled. He gave her a tense smile. “Its good to see you awake once again. I was getting rather worried.”

“What happened?” Buffy asked, her memories still jumbled.

“You were poisoned. From your symptoms I would guess striped toadstool poison. It dulls the mind and weakens the will. Depending on the dosage, it can act as a powerful dissociative.”

“Poison? There was a woman...” Buffy trailed off, her mind trying to put together a clear picture of what had happened.

“Her name is Annika Charthagnion. You may have trouble believing this, but that woman... is a vampire.” The man's voice was so grave Buffy couldn't help but burst into laughter, although it was short lived as doing so hurt her head. The man huffed. “I know its difficult to believe, but are surviving vampires really so strange?”

“No, no. Its just... I've never been on this side of this chat before. Talk about wiggy.”

“What do you mean?”

Buffy smiled brightly. “I'm Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

The man looked at her for second, before he began to laugh as well. “Well, that is convenient. Any chance you could get on with that?”

“Sure,” Buffy said as she struggled to sit up. “As soon as I can stand, I'll be ready for some serious slayage.”

“Lay back down. You're still weak from the poison.”

Buffy groaned as she did so. “I'd be happier laying down if there was a bed of some kind involved.” Buffy looked around the room. It was small and dark, the walls, floor and ceiling nothing more than stone blocks with a single heavy wooden door leading out, the light spilling under it providing the only illumination. “So what did you do to get setup with such a swanky room?”

He looked at her blankly for a moment, then shrugged. “I shook off Annika's domination, but she wanted what I know. That means until she gets bored of me and decides to kill me I'm stuck here. Or, in the worst case, she decides I'm too interesting and turns me, in which case I'll be trading our prison cell for a coffin.”

“Lovely. Why does she want you?”

“I'm a scholar of the unusual, in particular extraplanar entities. She's been wanting to know what I know about a number of creatures, although I don't know why.”

“Extraplanar? Wait, you said your name was Lortimort?”

“Lorrimor. Professor Petros Lorrimor. Since we're both prisoners I see no reason to stand on ceremony, however, so you may call me Petros.”

“Right. I've heard of you. A dean at the College in town said you were coming.”

“Dr. Meirtmane, I presume?”

“I guess. He said you might be able to help me.”

“Oh? If we get out of here alive, I'd be honored to help you, especially if you were to slay our captors to facilitate our escape.”

Buffy smiled. “I will. As soon as the room stops spinning and my head stops being full of cotton.”

“What did you need help with?”

“Well, this'll sound weird, but I'm not from this world. There was this whole thing with a witch and an explosion and then...”

“Then?” Petros asked hesitantly.

Buffy nodded, stopping after a moment as the motion made her head pound. “Then I fell through some weird place with all this stuff, and then I fell through a hole in the air and landed in that big lake.”

“Lake Encarthan?”

“Um, sure. We'll go with that.”

“And before this... explosion you were not living anywhere on Golarion?”

“Nope.”

“I see. Do you know how to get back to where you were?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn't have been hoping you could help me, now would I?”

Petros smiled sheepishly. “Ah. Good point. Well, what was your world? The Great Beyond is full of many strange things and places, any of which could be your point of origin.”

Buffy squinted at Petros for a minute. “Are you trying to imply I'm strange?” Petros sputtered for moment, bringing a wistful smile to Buffy's lips. Her cellmate only needed glasses to clean for him to be Giles in that moment. “Well, I'm from the earth.”

“Earth? You mean the Elemental Plane of Earth?”

“Elemental? Um, I doubt it. Earth is a lot like Golarion, only with better technology. Like cars. Do you know how much I miss cars? I used to hate driving them 'cause of this whole thing that happened in high school, which was totally not my fault, by the way. But compared to walking? Or riding a horse everywhere?”

Petros looked dumbfounded after her babble. “Um, I'm not entirely certain what you said, but I take it to mean that you are from elsewhere in the Material Plane.”

“I guess. So, can you help me?”

“I'll certainly give it my best effort, although it could be rather difficult. I've never heard of a planet earth in the Material anywhere in my researches, so I'll have to send you back indirectly. Hmm. Yes, I think I can work something out, though it may take time.”

For the first time since her arrival Buffy felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Sure, she was currently a prisoner of a vampire, and she had been drugged senseless, but she had a way home. Her face set with determination. She would protect Petros and get them both out alive, Buffy vowed. Then he would find her way home and she would see her friends again. That was all there was to it.

The two sat in the dark for hours talking quietly while Buffy recovered. Petros was a scholar first and foremost, and he took advantage of having access to a willing subject of his favorite area of study to ask a great many questions. Buffy avoided answering the more personal ones, recent events having made speaking of home too painful to do with a stranger, but the professor quickly realized this and confined his questions to more general ones about her world. When she became uncomfortable talking about herself so much Petros smoothly inserted stories about his daughter, Kendra, who he obviously doted on. Hearing his care for her made Buffy's heart ache, and fed her determination to get them both out of there.

Eventually Buffy stiffened as her slayer senses picked up the presence of approaching vampires. She slowly sat up and gazed at the door intently, Petros trailing off his question about the nature of television to follow her gaze as best he could in the dim light. Finally, the door opened.

Standing in the doorway was the vampire that had used its thrall on her the night before. She was a beautiful woman with long, straight black hair and porcelain skin with deep red eyes that glowed faintly. She was dressed in a long, antiquated black dress covered in lace accents like black spiderwebbing which revealed far too much cleavage. Standing behind her was the vampire she had fought previously, his red eyes cold and calculating.

Buffy slowly tensed her muscles in anticipation, her subtly positioned body allowing her to spring to her feet in an instant without appearing to be ready. However, before she could make her move the woman smirked coldly and spoke. “Follow me. Do not cause any trouble.”

Buffy rose mechanically and began to follow the vampire as the cool red glow suffused her thoughts once more, driving her to action even as the suppressed parts of her being raged at being commanded by her enemy. Deep inside Buffy felt a growing horror as she realized that she was still enthralled from the previous evening.

The building they were in turned out to be a large estate on a hill north of Rozenport. It had obviously once been truly grand, but now, despite apparent efforts to clean and repair it, the building was in fairly bad condition. The hallway they walked down and the room they were led into were all clean and fairly well kept, but other hallways and glimpses past sagging doors into dusty rooms showed the true state of the building.

The final destination had once been a ballroom, with an open wooden floor and several crystal chandeliers' full of candles providing light. On one side of the room a large antique wooden chair with decorations of gold leaf and with plush, though somewhat moth eaten, red cushions to provide comfort sat by itself. Standing next to it was another male vampire, this one a man with broad shoulders and a neatly trimmed black beard, who was also dressed in dark, finely tailored clothing.

Scattered around the room talking quietly were a half dozen humans, all of them unusually attractive men and women. A man standing in one corner played a sad piece on a violin with exquisite skill despite his slack face and glazed eyes. Buffy carefully examined the people of the room as they mingled, and it did not take her long to realize that they all had glazed eyes and a single minded dedication to their activities that seemed stilted and unnatural. With a frown she realized that they were all without a doubt enthralled.

The female vampire sat down on the fancy chair like a queen upon her throne, her head held at an arrogant angle, as though she were looking down on everyone she deigned to allow into her presence. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is time to begin our evening revel once more. Begin the music and dance.”

Buffy was bemused as she watched the crowd begin to dance to a waltz the violinist started to play with consumate skill. The vampire smiled at Buffy, revealing her needle sharp fangs. “What is your name?”

“Buffy Summers,” she said automatically, unable to stop herself.

“I am Annika Charthagnion, your new mistress. We will talk and... dine later. For now, join the party! Dance and mingle, Buffy, for tonight may be your last chance to do so as one of the living.”

Against her will Buffy found herself turning around and walking past a glum looking Petros as she moved towards the humans in the room. For the next several hours Buffy was caught up in the ball, dancing with skilled partners, drawing upon nearly forgotten memories from a long ago halloween to perform the intricate dances that her companions, all rich or noble men and women, were familiar with.

Under most situations Buffy would have been very pleased to be treated like a lady on the dance floor by a group of handsome and charming noblemen. Being forced to do so by a vampire took all of the fun out of it, and soon it joined the list of destroyed childhood dreams alongside having a horse (which was crushed after the first muscle cramp), and being a superhero, among many others in her life.

After a time Buffy lost herself in thought, allowing the magic to carry her along with the party while she pondered her situation. The red glow in her mind forcing her to act in certain ways was very different from past thralls she had fallen under. When the Master had thralled her she had been forced to act exactly has he had desired, with no thoughts or feelings of her own. For the brief moment he had held her under his control, she had thought nothing, felt nothing, and done nothing but act as a puppet to his will. Dracula's thrall had been more subtle, causing her feel as though her actions were right and normal, following his instructions as though it was her own ideas rather than those imposed upon her, and yet it had also held a surreal quality as though it were all simply a dream. Annika's thrall filled her mind, causing her to act in the desired manner, but deep down she was aware of the truth, even if she could not act upon it. But, she vowed, she would, and soon.

After hours of dance and music a group of servants entered bringing with them a large table which they set in front of Annika's chair. Several more trips brought in a collection of wooden chairs which were placed around the table, and then a crisp white table cloth and formal place settings. Red candles were placed in silver holders and lit before Annika called out to the room in her clear soprano voice. “Come, gather my guests. It is time for our feast.”

Buffy was directed to the chair to Annika's right, with Petros sitting across from her at Annika's left. The servants brought large platters of roast birds and finely cooked vegetables until the table was nearly groaning under the weight of the feast. Everything smelled delicious, and after a day with nothing to eat Buffy found her mouth watering.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Annika said, raising a glass of red liquid. “A toast.” Buffy and everyone else at the table raised their own glasses in salute, only Petros hesitating even slightly. “This meal is, as always, in honor of our goddess Urgathoa, who we honor for our blessings of undeath. Feed your pain.”

“Feed your pain,” the people at the table murmured, sipping their drinks. Buffy had never been much of a wine drinker, but even she could tell that her's was from a very expensive vintage. Digging into her meal, Buffy found that the food was even more delicious than it smelled, and she began to eat her fill, only the nearly forgotten etiquette that her dancing had reminded her of kept her using the various pieces of silverware instead of simply grabbing food with both hands to sate her hunger.

“My, my, you do great honor to Urgathoa” Annika said, amused as Buffy dug into her third helping.

“Huh?” Buffy asked after swallowing a mouthful of glazed carrot.

“Petros, if you would?”

Petros cleared his throat. “Urgathoa, also known as the Pallid Princess, is the goddess of disease, gluttony and undeath. Her churches tend to be divided between those who worship her in her aspect as the mistress of the undead, and those who worship her in her aspect as the patron of gluttony. This meal, of course, is a feast being hosted by a vampire, so it bridges both sides of the religion.”

“Wait, I've heard of her.” Buffy scrunched her nose up in thought. “Oh, yeah! There was a temple full of ghouls in Thrushmoor that worshipped her.”

“Ugh,” Annika said distastefully. “I loath ghouls. Foul things. I did not realize that Thrushmoor had a church, however.”

“Well, they don't anymore.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I killed their leader and most of its members.”

Annika eyed her coldly, her red eyes burning. “Tell me everything that happened.”

Since Annika wanted to know the truth, Buffy didn't want to tell her, but she found herself unable to stop talking as she explained everything in detail. Finally, Annika sat back, frowning thoughtfully.

“Ah, well,” Annika mused. “It's for the best, I suppose. If a plague did kill most of the town, it could easily spread, and I'm not fond of drinking from the diseased. It ruins the flavor. However superior our existence, we vampires will always be dependent upon our food, just as you could not survive wiping out your fellow animals. It never ceases to amaze me how foolish and short sighted some can be.”

Buffy smiled wistfully as she thought about another vampire's fondess for 'happy meals with legs'.

“You must be quite a warrior,” Annika said thoughtfully. “I drugged you before thralling you after hearing what Jacob said about his confrontation with you. How are you so strong?”

Buffy didn't want to say anything, but nothing she did stopped the words from spilling out. “I'm the Vampire Slayer.”

“How can you call yourself a vampire slayer if you did not carry anything but a wooden stake, and did not even know to leave it in your victim's heart?”

“Where I'm from vampires are different.”

“Where your from?”

“Yeah. I'm from a different world.”

Annika leaned forward curiously. “How did you come to be here, then?”

Buffy explained the circumstances of her arrival, and even had to answer a great many clarifying questions that she desperately did not want to answer. After telling the group about her sister's last words, everyone looked over at Petros who was sputtering in shock.

“Your sister,” Petros said, his voice shaking. He paused to collect himself and took a deep breath. “Your sister is Yog-Sothoth?”

“My sister is Dawn,” Buffy said, voice hard, her eyes burning at the thought of her sister.

“What is Yog-Sothoth?” Annika asked.

“Yog-Sothoth,” Petros began with an apologetic look at Buffy, “is also known as the Key and the Gate and the Lurker at the Threshold. It's the outer god of gates, space and time. It is said to dwell within the Dark Tapestry and connects all things, all times, and all possibilities. It's one of the most powerful and dangerous entities to ever exist.”

“So it's a god?” Annika asked.

“It's not just a god,” Petros said, shaking his head. “It's a god so ancient and so alien that it is beyond all understanding. To even look upon it briefly is enough to drive men mad, and no being can truly fathom its purposes. For her to have the blessing of such an entity... it's both incredibly valuable and unimaginably dangerous.”

“Is that how you are so strong? Some blessing from this god?”

“No,” Buffy said. “I'm the slayer.”

“What is the slayer?” Annika asked.

“If Giles were here he could do this better. It so sounds better with a tweedy british accent. But it goes something like this. 'Into every generation a slayer is born. One girl, in all the world, the chosen one. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness; to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the slayer.'”

“How did you come to be this slayer?”

“The slayer before me died, so I was called. I went from being a normal teenage girl to suddenly having this whole huge destiny thing. It sucks.”

“You said that your vampires were different,” Annika said. “In what way?”

“Well, I've only fought the one here, but from what I read after that fight, my kind of vampires seem to be physically stronger and faster than your kind. They're also more savage and better natural fighters. But they don't have as many cool powers, and they are a lot easier to hurt. I've only met three vamps who could thrall, and only one who could turn into a bat.”

“Interesting, but enough of that. I'm feeling a bit peckish. Buffy, come to me.”

Buffy tried to fight it, but nothing worked. Slowly she stood and walked over to the vampire, who stood with a cruel smile on her face. Grabbing Buffy around her waist with one arm, she grabbed her hair with the other, pulling her head back to expose her throat. Buffy shuddered as the female vampire's cold tongue licked her neck, before grunting in pain as her tiny fangs pierced her skin.

Buffy had felt nothing but pain when the Master drained her at sixteen, and so she had been shocked when the pain had mixed with incredible pleasure when Angel drank from her two years later. Dracula had filled her with pleasure from the act, but it had been distant, her reactions dulled slightly from the power of his thrall. Annika's thrall worked differently, allowing her to feel everything, and she hated it. The pain of the bite was unpleasant, but as the slayer she was used to pain. What bothered her was the sickening pleasure she felt, her body becoming hot and tingly as her life was drained away, the ecstasy rolling over her in waves that left her feeling filthy and violated.

Annika pulled back with a gasp, red eyes glowing, her pupils dilated. “That was incredible. I've never tasted such blood. So much power, such sweet, sweet power.” Annika collapsed into her chair bonelessly, blood leaking slowly from one side of her mouth. Buffy held a hand to her throat as she leaned against the table gasping, her legs feeling like wet noodles and her body trembling from weakness and other things she preferred to ignore.

“I had planned on turning you into a vampire minion since you were able to hurt Jacob, but now... Oh my, I think I'll keep you alive for a while. I wouldn't normally risk you breaking my hold, but to taste that again... Follow my servant and go to your new room. Stay there and make no trouble.”

Buffy staggered after the human servant, seething inside but unable to fight... yet.

**Author's Notes**  
I made up the details for Annika and her brood (her name is an average name for someone from Cheliax). She is the example vampire from the first Bestiary, although I've changed her 4th level spell. Petros Lorrimor is important for the Carrion Crown Adventure Path.

BtVS is a mix of urban fantasy and the superhero genre. I've always felt that slayer's were very strong, quite a bit stronger than the vampires in Pathfinder, although ability-wise it's a setting full of Draculas.


	5. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**Holding a Tiger By Its Tail**

 

Buffy slowly came awake in a soft, feather stuffed bed lying in an unfamiliar room. Tensing, she reached out with her senses, relaxing slightly when she noticed no vampires in the immediate area. She could smell dust heavy in the air, and a subtle undercurrent of rot. Sunshine warmed her face.

Slowly opening her eyes, Buffy saw that she was lying in a small room with an open window admitting daylight to fill up the tiny space. The only furniture was a large, comfortable bed on which she lay, although its sheets were coarse and scratchy. Thinking back, Buffy's eyes widened as she suddenly remembered what had happened to her.

After being drained of most of her blood, Buffy had been escorted to this room by a servant. Buffy had been too out of it to do anything the night before, but now she took stock of herself. She was still wrung out from the blood loss, but she had mostly recovered, her slayer healing helping to replenish lost blood at an accelerated rate. Her clothing was as dirty as her body, having not had the chance to wash in well over a day, but she still had her daggers and stakes on her person.

Standing quietly, Buffy walked over to the door and opened it silently. The hall outside was empty, and Buffy could tell that it was part of the main hallway that she had been lead through at the beginning of the previous evening. Pulling the door wider Buffy tried to leave, only to freeze. The cold red glow in her mind returned full force, compelling her to stay. Closing the door, Buffy returned to her bed and sat with a sigh. She was still thralled, she concluded glumly.

Buffy spent the next several hours practicing her martial arts as best she could in the confined space of her room. It was a far better way to spend her time than thinking, since every time she did her thoughts drifted back to home, and the sudden loss of Tara and Dawn. Thinking about them hurt her terribly, and she still could barely think of Willow without a flare of intense anger. Instead of dwelling further, Buffy committed herself to her training.

Eventually, a closemouthed servant arrived, bringing her a meal. The young man ignored all attempts at conversation, leaving Buffy with platter of food. It included sausages, fried eggs, ham, bread, and fried tomatoes, all of which were offered in large quantities. Whatever complaints she might have about her imprisonment, Buffy thought, the food was a far cry from Double Meat Medleys.

Not long after she finished eating an older woman entered. Smiling at Buffy stiffly, she pulled out a tape measure. “I'm a seamstress. The mistress has ordered me to make you a proper dress for tonight's revel.”

Buffy soon found herself stripped to her underwear and being measured repeatedly by the woman. She clucked disapprovingly as she did so. “Your much to too thin, dear. I've seen the way you've been eating here, and you definitely need to keep it up. With some luck, some of the weight might even go to your chest.”

“Hey,” Buffy said, outraged. “There's nothing wrong with my breasts!” Buffy glanced down self-consciously, still fuming.

“Of course not, dear, nothing wrong at all. Still, if you could put a little weight on before the mistress decides to turn you, you'll be thanking yourself for centuries.”

Buffy looked around before reaching out with her senses to make sure they were alone. “Look, is there anyway that you can help me? I'll rescue you when I get a chance too, but...”

“I'm sorry, dear,” the woman interrupted her with a gentle tone. “But there's nothing to be done. The only thing I can help you with is getting the right dress. Now, how do you feel about green? I think it would bring out your eyes very nicely.”

With a resigned sigh, Buffy went with the flow and soon found herself enjoying having her first custom tailored dress made. The seamstress, who eventually introduced herself as Vibia, had very different tastes from Buffy, and it took all of her efforts to acquire a dress that wasn't covered in ruffles and lace, or possessing enormous shoulder pads or an overly tight corset.

Servants brought in a large copper tub while Buffy covered herself self-consciously, filling it with steaming water while Vibia sewed. Soon Buffy was clean, relaxed, and perfumed, and sitting wearing only a towel while she waited for her new clothing.

The final result was a gorgeous gown of pale green cloth which flowed smoothly over her body. It was tight enough around her upper body to show off her petite figure to full effect, but loose enough everywhere to allow a full range of movement. Smiling into the small hand mirror a servant had brought, Buffy couldn't help but relax as Vibia carefully brushed her blonde hair into an elaborate up do. She hadn't pampered herself since she had been torn from heaven, and even if she would rather escape, she had to admit that she had rarely looked better. Reluctantly surrendering her mirror to Vibia as she left, Buffy grinned as she looked down at herself. Buffy's eyes watered as she imagined Dawn being upset that the dress was too closely tailored for her to steal. As angry as Dawn stealing (and all too often ruining) her clothing had made her in the past, now she would give anything for Dawn to be a pest again.

Shaking off her pain, Buffy took the time to carefully stretch herself. Her dress was loose enough to allow her a good range of movement, far better than the dress she had fought the master in at least. Delivering a high kick just to be certain, Buffy nodded before carefully adjusting her hair. She could definitely fight in her new outfit, her foolishness in her high school years having taught her all of the tricks to fighting in wildly impractical clothing, and her efforts with Vibia leading to a dress that was far more wearable than it first appeared. She just needed the opportunity.

Finally, Buffy settled onto the bed as she felt a vampire approaching once more. Opening the door, Annika strode in. “Let me see you,” she said, twirling a finger. Buffy did as directed, spinning to show off her dress. “Very nice. I knew that you were pretty, but dressed well, you are beautiful. Yes, when the time comes I will definitely be keeping you around. Now then, the party awaits!”

Buffy followed the vampire to the ballroom again, and once more was ordered to join in the revelry. Properly attired, and with her nearly forgotten formal dance skills refreshed the day before, Buffy found herself the center of attention on the dance floor with all of the men nearly fighting for the chance to dance with her. Despite herself Buffy was soon having a very good time, nearly forgetting the situation as she moved to the music. For the last year Buffy had spent more time in the shadows of the Bronze watching others enjoy themselves than participating, and now she found herself enjoying what she been missing since her resurrection.

Unfortunately, her fun was shattered when her next partner was Jacob, the vampire that she had fought several nights ago. Tensing, Buffy tried to avoid dancing with him, but she felt her compulsion to party glow in her mind, forcing her accept his offer. Buffy grit her teeth as she began to waltz with the cold bodied monster who, to her annoyance, seemed to be using the dance as little more than an opportunity to look down her dress.

“Hey,” Buffy said sharply. “My eyes are up here you know.”

The vampire smirked condescendingly at her. “What does that matter? Soon, you'll be one of us, and I'm looking very forward to it. For what you did to me... oh yes, I'm looking forward to teaching you the place of a freshly turned vampire.”

“Ew,” Buffy said, her face grimacing in distaste. “I'd rather be dead.”

“You will be, little girl.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Really, we're back to 'little girl' again. 'Cause you know, that makes you sound like a big ol' creeper. I mean, pedophile much? Besides...” Buffy's voice, which had been light before, suddenly turned hard and dangerous. “I may be thralled now, but when I break it, I'm going to kill you. I won't play games. I won't mess around. I'm going to beat you to death, and then I'm going to stake you and leave you for the sun.” Buffy smirked in satisfaction when he flinched at her tone of voice.

Twirling away as the song ended, Buffy found another partner, and smiled in satisfaction as neither vampire approached her again. Thralled or not, she was Buffy the Vampire Slayer, damn it.

Eventually servants brought out the table once more, and loaded it with another fantastic spread. Taking the same seat as last time, Buffy nodded across the table at Petros. “How are you holding up?” she asked quietly.

“I am as well as can be expected. Are you alright? You are the one she has been feeding upon.”

Buffy smiled slightly at the genuine concern in his voice. “I'm fine. Slayer healing. As long as I can eat like this, I'll be okay even if she does drain me like that every day.”

Buffy waited silently as Annika gave a blessing to her dark goddess, ending once more with her toast. “Feed your pain.”

The food was as delicious and plentiful as the day before, this time featuring a variety of pork dishes rather than the fowl of the previous feast. “Is this an everyday thing? 'Cause this much food has got be expensive.”

Annika chuckled throatily. “Oh yes, I honor my goddess whenever possible. Urgathoa tells us that we should enjoy all earthly pleasures available to us, both while living and from beyond the grave. And its not just food, or the parties I host. If you would like anything else, then simply ask. I would be remiss as a host if did not provide all the worldly pleasures you could ask for. Any of those handsome men you've danced with? Or, if you would prefer, one of the ladies could grace your bed. Or both.”

“The only thing I want is to beat you vamps to death with my bare hands.”

Annika laughed delightedly. “How deliciously savage. Tomorrow night before the feast I'll let you pummel Manius for a while. It should be good entertainment, and a fine lesson for my other minion.” Leaning forward she gave Buffy a conspiratorial grin. “We lady adventurer's need to stick together after all. I was much like you once. I wandered from town to town, from Cheliax to the Land of the Linnorm Kings, fighting evil wherever I found it until one day I caught the eye of powerful vampire in Caliphas. When I turn you, you won't just be like my minions over there. I can feel it already. You'll rise as a true vampire, not simply some weak spawn. After a few centuries under my control I'll even set you free to find your own path, I think.”

Buffy shuddered at the thought. One of her most terrible nightmares had been being turned, and unless she could escape the thrall holding her it would soon be her fate. The idea of an eternity without heaven, doing evil... it was unthinkable.

Buffy stayed quiet throughout the rest of the feast, merely listening as Annika discussed the history of ghosts in Ustalav with Petros. Finally, after the servants had delivered a rich chocolate cake (of which Buffy ate two slices) she sat back contentedly, feeling warm and relaxed after the superb meal. Even with a slayer's metabolism, Buffy thought, she would be lucky to stay in shape long enough to be turned with the way she was eating.

“You have proven to be quite a source of knowledge, Petros,” Annika said, smiling a shark's grin. “I had simply planned on learning what you knew and then killing you, but I think I'll keep you. You may not be handsome enough for my bed like my other minions, but your knowledge is worth preserving.”

Hearing that, Petros paused for a moment, before scrambling to his feet and running for the door. Annika looked over at Buffy, smiling teasingly. “Catch him and bring him back to me.” Buffy leapt to her feet and ran flat out, catching Petros before he even reached the exit. Grabbing him as gently as she could, she half carried and half dragged him back to the vampire, who now stood next to the dining table. “Hold him still while I turn him.” Saying that, Annika leaned forward toward the wildly struggling Petros, her eyes locked onto his pulsing neck.

The ability of a Golarion vampire to dominate its victim is heavily influenced by how much the victim is determined to fight it. Buffy hated being under the vampire's control, but its commands had not been onerous. She might want to escape, but Buffy often stayed in rooms or followed people. She might not want to be ordered to party, but she loved to dance. She would never let a vampire bite her unless there was a dire need, but she had let Angel do it in the past, and a tiny voice in her head that she firmly denied existing could understand Riley's enjoyment of the act. Furthermore, while Buffy had been healing recently, the loss of Dawn and her dimensional displacement had set Buffy back somewhat, and the masochistic urges that had lead her into her mutually abusive relationship with Spike didn't put up much of a fight against what was happening.

No part of Buffy, not even the smallest most traitorous voice, could accept seeing an innocent being turned by a vampire. The thought of Petros being turned revolted her on a fundamental level, and she opposed the idea with every fiber of her being. The red glow of Annika's domination didn't stand a chance against the tide of righteous anger and soul deep outrage that filled her, spurred on by the wrath of her inner slayer rebelling against the act she was being forced to participate in. Before she could even blink Buffy snarled and grabbed one of the candlesticks, swinging it with every bit of mystical might in her entire body.

The silver candlestick holder moved so fast that it was invisible in the air, and struck so hard against Annika's head that it snapped in two, the end flying across the room and embedding into the wood paneling. The only reason that the vampire's skull didn't simply burst like a melon from the force of the blow was that Annika had felt her domination breaking, and had already begun to move backwards with all of her supernatural speed, lessoning the impact. It was still enough to crack her skull, splitting the skin on her head open in a spray of black blood as she hurtled through the air a dozen feet, her brain bouncing about the inside of her skull like the clapper of a bell.

Dropping the ruined candlestick holder, Buffy pushed Petros under the table and jumped on top of it, scooping up silverware as she moved. The two vampire minions had barely stood before she began to throw, forks and spoons of sterling silver embedding in vampiric flesh at joints and other weak points and digging in deeply, the metal keeping the wounds from healing as quickly as those inflicted by her fists and stakes had.

Running down the table, Buffy scooped up another silver candlestick holder and leapt into the air at Jacob, the vampire that she had beaten before. His eyes widened, displaying his fangs as he gaped at her stupidly, before his mouth forcibly snapped shut as Buffy caved his head in with the candlestick, the downward blow crumbling his body for a moment before he simply dissolved into mist, flowing out of the room through one of the open doors.

Buffy vaulted over the table, feet first into the face of the remaining minion vampire, her quick move saving her life as two lines of flame shot through her previous position, the heat so intense and so close that it scorched the back of her neck and singed her hair as she flew away from the attack. As Buffy struck her target in the nose, she looked back across the room at her attacker. Standing somewhat unsteadily with dark blood running down her face was Annika, her hands still held out, wisps of smoke slowly rising from her palms.

Looking down at her current enemy, Buffy lashed downward twice with her improvised silver weapon, smashing his handsome face before he too burst into mist. Looking up, Buffy dove to the side as two more lines of fire shot outward, the bottom of her dress bursting into flame from her narrow dodge.

“I thought vamps were supposed to avoid fire!” Buffy complained.

“Kill the girl!” Annika snarled. As one the crowd of humans turned toward Buffy and charged.

“Would it help if I apologized about the head?” Buffy called out as she dodged her attackers, reluctant to hurt the innocent victims of the vampires. “Next time, I'll aim for the face. It certainly couldn't hurt anything.”

Annika scowled and chanted quietly, waving her hands for a moment before pointing at Buffy. Her fingertip glowed red, and from it came four glowing streaks of light. Buffy tumbled sideways, her eyes widening as the attack changed course in midair and, despite her most desperate maneuvering, she was struck by all four lights. Grunting in pain as her body began to bleed, she looked down. The attacks had only inflicted shallow wounds, but they had struck painfully all the same. Standing up, Buffy pushed a nobleman aside as she jumped back onto the table, throwing her candlestick holder at the vampire, who simply tilted her head to one side to avoid the blow, her hands already moving and her mouth chanting as she prepared another spell.

Buffy ran hard down the length of the table, but her progress was slowed by people attempting to trip her up, finally forcing her to kick several people away as they stopped her progress through sheer numbers. Somersaulting sideways as Annika completed her spell again, her wild dodge into the crowd did nothing as four more streaks of red light wove through her attackers to strike Buffy once more. Knocked off balance by the hits, Buffy was pulled to the ground by two of her former dance partners.

Struggling to her feet, Buffy finally heaved her attackers away from her long enough to stand, before she found herself knocked backwards once again with a scream as four more hits struck home, opening up more sluggishly bleeding wounds. Pushing through the ring of enthralled humans, Buffy moved as best she could towards the casting vampire when suddenly Petros stood up from under the table, picking up a serving tray and sticking the bottom side into Annika's face. She recoiled with a hiss, her face scrunching up as she was presented with her reflection, or rather her lack of one. “Thats what everyone feels like doing when they see your face, trust me on that,” Buffy said as she finally cleared her attackers. She had thought the fear of mirrors was stupid, but she was glad the local vampires were frightened of their reflection enough for a well cleaned metal serving tray to hold them at bay as well as her cross would have her own vamps.

Annika backed up quickly as Buffy charged, chanting quietly as she held up her hands, the thumbs linked together and her fingers splayed out wide toward the slayer. Buffy scooped up a large two pronged silver serving fork on the run, holding it like a dagger as she closed. Just as she began to lunge, Annika finished her spell, flames erupting from her hands and cascading outward, filling the space in front of her. Buffy dug in her heels to stop and raised her arms to cover her face, barely holding in her scream as her dress burst into flames, her arms blistering painfully under the intense heat.

The slayer, her clothing completely on fire, glared at the vampire, her flaming body and fierce expression giving her the appearance of some terrible hell spawn set to extract painful vengeance on her enemy. Sneering to cover how unnerved she was, Annika raised her arms above her head, as suddenly with a great rush of wings a cloud of bats poured into the room from every entrance, all but blocking Buffy's vision. “By the blood, Slayer, we will meet again,” Annika vowed as she transformed into a bat herself, getting immediately lost in the swarm.

Buffy cursed and dove to the floor, rolling back and forth trying to put out the painful fire. “Hold still!” Petros shouted, pulling the tablecloth down onto her, wrapping her up to smother the flames.

Buffy held in a whimper as the cloth dug into the painful burns covering her body, grabbing onto her anger instead as she growled. “When I find her I am going rip out her ribcage with my bare hands.”

“Sounds messy, yet likely satisfying. But I think for now you'll be needing some bandages and more care besides. These are some nasty burns.”

Buffy grimaced. “I'll live. We need to make sure the vamps don't.”

“Annika is probably long gone. She'll fly to town and hide, probably dominate someone to get her a coffin and a carriage to transport herself in. The other two though, are another story. You hurt them badly enough to force them to discorporate, so they must have returned to their coffins nearby. If we can find them before they heal, we can deal with them permanently.”

Buffy stood, her face like stone as she ignored the terrible pain from her burned body. Looking down, she saw that her skin was bright red and covered in blisters, but only in a few places had the burns moved past second degree, the skin blackened here and there in small patches, in addition to the dozen sluggishly bleeding wounds Annika's other spells had caused. “Thank God for slayer healing,” Buffy said, her voice tight. “I'm going to be down for a few days after this, but I've got enough in me to stake a few vamps. I've found that slaying is the best medicine.”

“Good,” Petros said, somewhat relieved although his voice still held obvious concern. “But I think we should at least clean your wounds first. You saved my life, and I won't let you send yourself to an early grave while I can prevent it.”

In the end Buffy was in too much pain to argue with him any longer, so she let herself be led away from the milling, confused crowd of dazed victims to the kitchen. Taking a few minutes, Petros managed to scrounge up enough supplies to treat her wounds, although she was burned in so many places she resembled a mummy when he was done bandaging her. The lotion he found did the trick though, soothing the worst of the pain to manageable (by a slayer) levels, allowing Buffy to find a change of clothing and her weapons and supplies.

After that, finding the vampires turned out to be far less effort than they had feared. Buffy could sense them downstairs, and a brief search found a room with three coffins in it. The fanciest one was empty, but the other two contained helpless vampires. Too sore and tired to even pun, Buffy simply staked them both and dragged them outside by their ankles. Sitting on the porch next to Petros, the two enjoyed a companionable silence as they waited for the sun to rise.

After days under the thrall of a vampire, Buffy smiled with satisfaction as the beautiful sunrise slowly lit up the sky, the first warm rays eventually finding the two staked minions. They burst into flames, consumed in seconds. “Way more trouble than my vamps,” Buffy said, her voice thoughtful. “But I have to admit, that was pretty satisfying.”

Petros chuckled his tired agreement.

**Author's Notes**  
The spells used against Buffy included scorching ray, magic missile, and burning hands. A vampire sorcerer is bad business. Don't worry about closure though – we haven't seen the last of Annika.

If you're vulnerable to silver, you really shouldn't use real silver very much, no matter how low class the alternatives. That should probably be on the evil overlord list. Too bad Annika doesn't have internet access.


	6. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**Professional Monster Slaying**

 

Buffy stalked through the thick forest, her every sense on high alert. Silently crouching, she examined the ground, carefully looking at the subtle impressions left on the thick loam. In Sunnydale Buffy had never been much of a tracker, but she knew how to pay close attention to her surroundings, and her slayer instincts, throwbacks from an older age, helped her pick up the skill quickly when she had the need for it. As quiet as a ghost Buffy stood and glided forward, her eyes darting about, following the nearly invisible trail while keeping her senses open for danger. Not that her spidey-sense helped as much as she would have hoped, as her current prey barely registered with it unless she was very close.

It had been three months since she had broken the vampire's thrall, and she had been terribly hurt by the experience. Fortunately for Buffy, Petros was a wealthy man with many connections; while in the long run that would aid him in fulfilling his promise to help her get home, in the short term his gratitude expressed itself in his tracking down and paying a priest to heal her many wounds. While slayer healing would have dealt with her injuries in time, she had become slightly feverish from them, her body reacting poorly to more than half of its surface area being burned. The dozen holes punch into her by magic hadn't helped matters either.

Magical healing had been a welcome relief, as a soothing warmth had flowed through her, her many burns tingling as holy magic coursed through her being. Buffy had been frozen in shock at that moment, the feel of the healing magics reminding her painfully of the heaven she had lost, but when they had ended she had looked down at herself and couldn't help but grin. Even with slayer healing she would have gained several large, ugly scars from the third degree burns, but now her skin was pink and new, without any marring from her recent injuries.

Dealing with the victims of the vampires' thrall had had its own complications. Since Annika lived, she would be able to claim them again even without visiting them in person, calling them as Dracula had called her to see him. In the end, it had taken the commitment of the church of Pharasma, the goddess of death (who hated the undead), as well as the resources of Sincomakti College (easily provided after offering to show Dr. Meirtmane the vampire's lair) to provide protection for them.

Buffy had stayed in town for nearly a week after that, helping Petros research as well as keeping an eye out for more vampires or other threats. Her search for Annika had turned up nothing of use, simply evidence that Petros had been correct in his assumption, with the disappearance of a carriage, a coffin, and two handsome drivers all before sunrise painting an obvious picture of what had happened. Finally, just when Buffy was becoming restless, Petros had found a lead.

The lead had sent Buffy and Petros riding north to Carrion Hill in search of a really old and musty book called the Pnakotic Manuscripts which were rumored to be there. It had taken her several days to track down, and she had had to kill a pack of ghouls and a variety of other strange monsters she hadn't recognized in order to secure it, but in the end she had succeeded. Petros had been excited to see it, the book being incredibly rare and thought lost, and she had been equally happy when he had informed her that it was full of rituals related to portals and other forms of dimensional travel. Her excitement had waned when he told her it would take months to translate sufficiently for him to send her home.

After securing the book, Petros had headed back to his hometown of Ravengro with the promise of contacting her when he had succeeded, and Buffy had decided to see more of the world she now hoped to leave behind soon. It had not taken long for Buffy to find the aspect of Golarion that she would miss the most when she returned home. In Golarion, monster slaying was a respectable, and well paying, job.

Buffy wasn't a greedy person, but after a year of working at the Double Meat Palace, being payed to do what she would do anyway, kill monsters, was a revelation. While she would never demand payment (and indeed, she had slain a number of monsters without recompense), if there was one being offered, she jumped at the opportunity. It had not taken long for her to build up a substantial nest egg, much of which went to the purchase of a bag of holding. While expensive, the sack could hold many times its volume without ever growing heavier or even appearing full. No longer constrained by what Mr. Gordo could carry, Buffy had gone on a shopping spree. Her new wardrobe rivaled her old in terms of volume, with tough travel leathers sitting beside tailored dresses in a variety of styles, and her shoe collection, all handmade, was equally vast. In addition, Buffy had bought an assortment of weapons in every make imaginable, her love of shiny, pointy weapons perhaps even exceeding her love of footwear.

Another reason that Buffy had come to accept being payed for her work was the peculiar Ustalav reaction to heroes. Monsters were everywhere in Ustalav, and most communities simply came to accept the presence of evil as long as it didn't bother them overmuch. Sure, they might lose some livestock, and people disappeared every now and then, but as long as they didn't make trouble, they could lead normal lives. Every town had tales of local heroes who decided to fix things, and simply made the situation worse, awakening the evil and causing terrible devastation before the monsters returned to their normal small scale depredations. Because of that danger, the people of Ustalav feared heroes as much as they did monsters. Someone being payed to perform a service, even if it was the same service that they were worried about heroes doing for free, was another matter entirely. A professional monster hunter was a trustworthy and respectable individual, and it was a role Buffy thrived in.

Her time monster hunting had had positive effects on herself as well. She had met a number of friendly people, but she had never stayed in one place long enough to become close to anyone, which meant Buffy had had more time to herself than she had ever had before. Initially she had thrown herself into her slaying to avoid dealing, but no matter what she did she couldn't run away from herself, and long days on the road with no one but Mr. Gordo to talk to had forced her to do something she had never really had an opportunity to do before. She had finally mourned.

Buffy had been too young to really understand her cousin Celia's death, and she had been too busy facing Angelus to take the time to face the loss of Jenny Calendar. When she had sent Angel to hell, she had been so guilty and so overwhelmed she had only really begun to cope when he had unexpectedly returned to her life. The death of her mother had been during the prelude to an apocalypse, and between that and caring for Dawn she had had to put everything aside and simply keep fighting. Now, with the recent grief of the loss of Tara and Dawn and no one to be strong for, no sacred duty to perform, and no task that required her attention, Buffy truly mourned for the first time in her life. It was painful. It was scary. It was hard. But in the end, while she was still sad, facing all that she had lost, not just to death, but the loss of heaven, the loss of her freedom when she was called as a slayer, the loss of her home and friends when she was sent to her new dimension, had brought her a sense of peace and closure like she had never known. Buffy took a long look at her behavior for the last year, and finally realized that she wasn't okay. But, facing it, she decided someday she would be. She had promised Dawn to live, and that meant more than just surviving.

Buffy crouched once more to look at the ground, frowning slightly. The track in front of her was heavier than it should have been, so she leaned down to examine it closer, her brow wrinkled in confusion. Leaning back on her heals, Buffy bit her lip in thought. Her gut told her that something was wrong with the print, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what. Slowly standing she looked around, her eyes widening as something else she had missed suddenly struck home. It was quiet.

Buffy had never been fond of the wilderness, but the last three months had taught her that a silent forest was a frightened forest, which usually meant people or monsters. Since she was hunting monsters, she had a pretty good idea what had made the birds and other animals fall silent. Slowly she raised her crossbow, closing her eyes in order to focus on her spidey-sense. Holding her breath, she finally felt it, and without hesitation she spun and fired.

Her bolt struck true, imbedding in the thick white coat of her target. Winterwolves were a species of magical wolves the size of bears with white pelts and a freezing breath. Even more dangerous than their physical power, however, was their human intelligence and evil natures that allowed them to attack even large human villages in search of prey, as had been the case with this wolf. Over the last month it had killed a dozen people from the small town of Rivennei, and Buffy had been hired to kill it. One of the first victims had been the wife of the village cobbler, and he had offered his grandmothers boots to whoever killed the creature. Normally the idea of a grandmother's shoes would be off putting, but Buffy had seen them, and they were beautiful. Magical as well, but she would have done the job ten times over just for their appearance, even though she had been forced to spend the last four days tracking the creature through the dense forest of the Shudderwood.

The winterwolf snarled at her. “You are all that village could hire to stop me?”

Oh right, giant _talking_ wolves, Buffy thought as she dropped her crossbow and pulled a spear out of her bag of holding, the eight foot weapon looking ridiculous as she pulled it out of the small bag. Flicking the end cap off to expose the steel point, Buffy smirked as she set herself. “I'm more than enough to punish one bad puppy.”

The wolf growled before taking a deep breath, its muzzle raised in the air as its chest expanded, frost matting the fur around its maw. Buffy didn't hesitate, throwing the spear with all her might before running sideways to take cover behind a tree. The wolf yowled as the spear sunk deep into its chest, but it didn't hesitate, lowering its head to breath out a blast of cold at the slayer. Buffy had been a fan of Power Girl when she was little, but she had always thought that her cold breath was silly, however now she found it far less so as she shivered behind her tree, the wood cracking and groaning as it threatened to collapse under the strain of the sudden supercooling.

Drawing a large two headed great axe from her bag Buffy charged forward, swinging the heavy weapon in a wide arc. The winterwolf was gravely wounded from her spear, but even so it managed to dodge backwards, Buffy's weapon opening a deep cut on its snout rather than splitting its head as she had intended. Buffy circled to her left, the injured wolf following the movement as it wheezed, red blood staining its front as more life fluid bubbled at the corner of its mouth. “You are strong, girl. But your woodcraft is terrible.”

“Everyone's a critic,” Buffy said.

“It was shear luck that you didn't walk another ten feet before reaching my ambush point. You followed where I had doubled back on my trail without concern for ten yards. Was ten more feet too much to ask?”

Buffy frowned. “Why make me go so far? Wouldn't it have made more sense to jump me right...”

Buffy didn't get a chance to finish as a heavy body suddenly landed on her, sharp claws raking her back and leaving deep cuts. Rolling over, Buffy tore her injuries even deeper by forcing herself off of the claws in order to defend herself, barely getting her arm up in time to stick her magical bracer in the second winterwolf's mouth as it went for her throat, the six inch fangs unable to damage the enchanted leather.

“You also didn't notice there were two of us bad puppies.” The first winterwolf growled mockingly as it slowly moved toward Buffy, its reddened teeth bared.

Buffy grunted, ignoring her pain as she dropped her axe to wrap her free arm around the winterwolf's thick neck. Pushing up with her bitten arm and pulling down with her free, she forced its head back painfully. Panicking it tried to release its grip as it reared back, legs scrambling for purchase as it sought to withdraw from its shockingly powerful opponent. Taking advantage of the change in position Buffy wrapped her legs around its torso and with a full bodied twist she snapped its head sideways, breaking the winterwolf's neck with a crack like a tree falling. Kicking the monster off of her Buffy rolled to her feet panting, one hand pulling a dagger as she rose.

“I may not be nature girl,” Buffy panted, “but compared to that pack of hellhounds at the prom, this is nothing.”

The living winterwolf raised is head, taking in another deep breath of air, the hole in its chest making a bubbling sound as it did so. Buffy didn't hesitate and ran forward, stabbing it under the chin with her dagger as she did. Winterwolves had thick pelts that dulled most attacks, but Buffy had killed far worse with cheaper weapons, and the well crafted steel sank deep into the monster's throat, soaking her hands in cold red blood. With one last gurgle the monster collapsed, dead.

Buffy sat back, gasping for breath, before taking stock of herself. Her back was badly mauled, and her front had a number of deep scratches as well. Grumbling, Buffy dug in her bag, pulling out a small vial of thick red fluid. When she had first seen them for sale, Buffy had scarcely been able to believe her eyes, but when she realized that the healing potions some alchemists sold were exactly as advertised she had made a habit to stock up on them whenever she could. They were expensive, but without her friends to help her when she got injured, she needed the edge.

Buffy gulped down the thick potion, her face grimacing at the taste, a disgusting mix of used gym socks soaked in amaretto liqueur and rancid horseradish. Despite the flavor, she couldn't argue with the results as the deepest scratches slowly stopped bleeding, the tingling warmth of the potion chasing away the worst of the pain. It didn't take her long after that to fish out her first aid kit and bandage up her remaining wounds. It wasn't perfect, but slayer healing would make short work of the rest.

Having done the slaying, Buffy was now faced with the part of her new career that she really disliked. In order to collect a bounty, she generally needed proof of her kills, and in this case that meant lugging back the heads of two bear sized wolves for over a day through the forest. Well, Buffy thought philosophically, at least she didn't have to walk through a sewer.

Despite the heavy and somewhat smelly weight of the winterwolf heads, Buffy was in a good mood as she closed in on Rivennei, the prospect of a hot bath, a warm meal, a soft bed, and most of all some cute boots perking her up. Not even writing her failures tracking in her journal, which she had started so that she could show Giles how different Golarion was, could get her down that night. She realized she had overestimated the survivability of her good mood, however, as an ephemeral black crow suddenly flew out of the air toward her. Buffy dropped the heads and dove to the side, rolling for cover, but the phantom bird simply changed course and passed through two trees to catch her, hovering in midair before her despite her best efforts to avoid it. Buffy tensed as its mouth opened.

“Buffy Summers,” the scratchy voice of an old man said. “This message is to inform you of the death of Professor Petros Lorrimor, whose will requested your presence in Ravengro.” The crow then closed its beak and cocked its head as it stared at her as though listening.

Buffy rocked back on her heels. She hadn't known Petros for long, but they had been through a traumatic vampire related event together, which was her main way of bonding with others. Blinking back tears, Buffy steeled herself. She didn't know for sure he was dead. It could just be a trap, maybe something Annika or some other enemy she had made in the past months sent to lure her out to be attacked. Buffy swallowed hard. Regardless of the truth, she was going to Ravengro.

The bird stared at her as she contemplated this, and she finally looked at it with exasperation. “I got the message. Go away.” The ephemeral bird nodded once and flew into the air, passing through intervening trees as it took off south at great speed.

Buffy doubled her pace to reach town quickly, and although the shoes proved as cute on her as she had hoped, the magic in them ensuring they resized to exactly fit her, Buffy's heart was no longer in it. When finely tailored, magical elven boots (made of the finest most supple golden hued leather with beautiful green stitchery) couldn't cheer her up Buffy knew she was upset.

Despite her rush, it took Buffy the better part of two weeks to reach Ravengro. She finally arrived shortly before noon, tired, saddle sore, weary and dust caked from the road. Ravengro was a tiny town of around three hundred people, with the walls of its buildings and the cobblestones of its streets all of the same dull gray stone, which contrasted so strongly with the brightly colored leaves of early autumn that it gave the entire place a washed out feeling. With the sky a gray and cloudy overcast, Buffy was reminded of some of the charcoal pictures that used to hang in her mother's gallery.

Even though it was midday the streets had few people people in them, the locals looking as dour as she had come to expect from the people of Ustalav, most of them doing their best to pretend that she didn't even exist. Looking around, she frowned slightly. The town had an unpleasant feel to it, the air bearing a taint that reminded her uncomfortably of being near the Hellmouth. Buffy didn't know what it was, but she was sure that something was wrong with Ravengro.

After a few minutes ride Buffy pulled Mr. Gordo to a stop in the town square, a circular grassy area surrounded by sturdy if dull stone buildings with a wooden gazebo in the middle, well weathered but also obviously well cared for. Buffy bit her lip, slowly looking around, unsure of where to start, only to be answered a minute later when her stomach growled to inform her of her first order of business. Looking down one of the three roads leading from the town square, Buffy could see what appeared to be a tavern at the end of it. Riding up, Buffy raised an eyebrow at its sign, which consisted of a red imp with horns and a spaded tail holding its plump belly and laughing hysterically.

Inside, Buffy found the building to be clean and well lit, with well kept wooden tables facing a large stone hearth, and a long wooden bar opposite the door. Several locals sat about the tables or at the bar eating rich smelling food and downing tankards of local ale, until everyone stopped and stared as she entered. After a moment the proprietor, a plump, round faced man with a large nose and a bushy brown mustache gave her a broad grin and hailed her with a deep cheerful voice. “Well met, Miss! Well met, and welcome to the Laughing Demon. What can I do you for?”

Buffy smiled back somewhat stiffly and made her way to the bar, hopping up onto an empty three legged stool. “I could use some food. What'cha got?”

“Well now, our lunch special is vampire steaks, although I've still got some wolfballs from breakfast, if that's to be more to your liking.”

Buffy's eyes bugged out. “What?!?”

The man burst out laughing. “Aye, aye. Nothing to get upset for. I just always thought that the best way to handle life was to face it laughin'. Don't worry your pretty little head none, just some fun names for our good fare. Anyhow, the taste's the thing, what hey?”

“Right,” Buffy answered dubiously. “I guess I'll try the vampire steaks then. Just as long as they don't burn up in the sun.” Buffy pouted. “I'm way to hungry for my meal to go up in smoke.”

With a laugh the man walked into the back room, and Buffy took the time to look around. Most of the locals were keeping a close eye on her, although they swiftly looked away when she noticed them. The room was decorated with a variety of tacky representations of famous monsters, all set up for comic effect, from a plush werewolf to a painting of a troop of tapdancing skeletons.

Buffy's nose twitched and she struggled not to visibly salivate as her food came out. Vampire steaks turned out to be a beef shish-kabob with thick, usable stakes pierced through the cuts of meat. The food was nothing fancy, but it was better fare that she had eaten in most of the village inns and taverns she had spent time in over the last several months. “This is good.”

“Thank'ya kindly, miss. The name's Zokar. Zokar Elkarid, and this here be my tavern.”

“I'm Buffy Summers.”

“Well met, Miss Summers. Please, call me Zokar.”

“Only if you call me Buffy.”

“Of course, I'd be honored. So then, if you don't mind my pryin', what's brought you to our fair town this day?”

Buffy smiled sadly, her heart falling as she remembered why she was here. “I got a message saying that I needed to come for a funeral.”

“Petros Lorrimor's funeral?”

Buffy nodded, biting her lip. The hope that it was all a misunderstanding had been a long shot, but it hurt to have his passing confirmed.

“Bad business that. Petros was a good man, and we're all the poorer to 'ave lost 'im. And poor Kendra, losin' her father like that, and with no livin' mother as well.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“Aye,” Zokar said, picking up a rag and wiping half heartedly at his bar. “Petros was pokin' round about Harrowstone, and summat fell on his head. Had to check his pockets to identify him. Still, leastwise it was quick.”

“Harrowstone?”

“Aye. Ravengro was built to service the ol' prison, 'til it burned down about fifty year ago. Now Harrowstone is nothin' but a burned out ruin south of town a bit.”

“Why would he go there?”

Zokar leaned forward conspiratorially. “Well now, the funeral was held up to wait for you to come, so I'd think you'd know him well enough to know what kind'a man ol' Petros was. Always curious, pokin' his nose in places. Dangerous business, but he was a good man all the same.”

Buffy frowned. “So its an old prison. Why would he look around there?”

“Well, as long as I've been alive, folk have had strange notions about that place. They say it's mighty haunted, and those that poke their nose in there find out what its like to lose that nose right quick!”

“Haunted,” Buffy said scrunching her nose up. “I hate ghosts.”

“Aye. Anyone with a lick of the sense the gods gave them knows not to mess with such things and to mind their own business. Still, Petros was a good friend, and he will be sore missed and no mistake.”

“Do you know when the funeral will be?”

“We were only waitin' for the last person to send word, and that would be yourself, as all of the other out of towners who were asked for sent word they couldn't come. Now that you're here and at such a good hour, we should be able to get this done before dark sets in. No sense in keepin' Kendra from her grievin' any longer than can be. In fact...” Zokar trailed off before walking to door to the back and calling out loudly, “Pevrin!”

After a minute a boy a little younger than Dawn had been appeared in the doorway. “Yeah, pa?”

“Go send word to the temple, m'boy. Let 'em know that the last guest has come.” As he ran off Zokar turned back to Buffy. “If you'd like you can make use of my bath to get cleaned of all the dust you've picked up along the long road.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said, smiling genuinely. She followed Zokar up the stairs to a small room with a large wooden tub, and the two quickly brought buckets of hot water up from the kitchen. After making sure that the door was locked, Buffy quickly stripped and scrubbed herself clean. Drying off with a towel from her bag, Buffy then pulled out her black dress. She had had it made almost two months before when she had decided to hold a private funeral for Dawn and Tara. The dress was black, with long sleeves and a flowing skirt that reached to the ground. After carefully fixing her hair with the help of her small hand held mirror Buffy tucked all of her other possessions away into her bag of holding.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy steeled herself before heading down the stairs. Zokar sat on a stool wearing a nice black suit drinking from a tankard, while his young son stood beside him pulling uncomfortably at his collar. Zokar gave her a sad smile when he saw her. “Ready, Buffy?”

Buffy paused for a moment before nodding. “I'm ready.”

**Author's Notes**  
Buffy has received two more magic items, specifically a bag of holding (always necessary) and boots of elvenkind. They aren't the most impressive magic item, but come on... pretty magic shoes and Buffy? Thats like peanut butter and jelly.

I made up the town of Rivennei and placed it along the northern Shudderwood. I wanted to have an encounter similar to the winterwolf The Devil in Gray mentioned in Rule of Fear, but that one was at a major town that was a bit more southerly than I wanted her to be when she got the message, so I made a new town up and gave it a similar enemy. After all, if one winterwolf is in that province, why not three? And since the map only shows important places, I'm sure that there are tons of small towns that aren't depicted.

This also marks the end of the first part of this story. This was the lead up to Buffy beginning the first part of the Carrion Crown Adventure Path, the Haunting of Harrowstone (hence the name of the story). I'm not planning on writing the other parts of this adventure path, so I am changing some things to make it more self contained. The Pnakotic Manuscripts are a Lovecraft invention, although they appeared in the Pathfinder Module Carrion Hill which I alluded to during this chapter.


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**A Troubled Funeral**

 

The Restlands was a large cemetery north of Ravengro. It was surrounded by a gray stone wall tall enough to keep unwanted people out, or in, save for four entrances opening onto winding gravel paths through the tombstones. In front of one of the entrances were four people standing beside a fine wooden coffin. Two of them were older men with white hair dressed in old fashioned black suits similar to those worn by Zokar and his son. One was taller than the other, with a thin well trimmed mustache and goatee, while the other stood with a cane although he held himself straight and firmly erect.

The other two mourners were women dressed in long black dresses similar to the one Buffy wore, although they both had large shoulder pads which Buffy had demanded her dressmaker leave off. One woman was in her middle thirties with dirty blonde hair pulled back into a braid and tiny silver rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose. The other woman was only a few years Buffy's senior, with her features bearing a resemblance to Petros. Her long brunette hair was bound into a high bun, with several wavy strands having come loose framing her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, although she smiled with a combination of sadness and relief, along with some curiosity, as she set her eyes on Buffy.

“You must be Buffy Summers,” she said quietly. “I'm Kendra Lorrimor. My father thought very highly of you.”

“Hello, Kendra,” Buffy said, giving her a compassionate look, remembering her own mother's funeral. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

“Thank you. I wish that as well.”

“I know you've probably heard it way too often already, and that it doesn't really mean anything, but I'm so sorry for your loss.”

Kendra met her gaze for a moment, and then she smiled shyly, her eyes displaying her vulnerability for a moment. “Thank you. I look forward to getting to know you better, Buffy. These are father's friends, Councilman Vashian Hearthmount, Councilman Gharen Muricar, and Jominda Fallenbridge. I believe you've already met Zokar Elkarid and his son Pevrin.”

“Nice you meet you all,” Buffy said, nodding to the others.

Councilman Hearthmount, the man with the cane, gave Buffy a brief nod, although from his look he didn't appear to like her much. Councilman Muricar gave her a leer that made her believe he liked her too much, although after a glance at the coffin he became somber again and only said a brief greeting. Jominda only smiled tightly at her, before looking away.

With so few mourners, and Councilman Hearthmount's need for a cane, Buffy, Jominda, Zokar and Councilman Muricar were all pressed into service as pallbearers. The coffin was heavy, but even though she had to hold it well over her shoulder due to her diminutive height, Buffy had no trouble carrying the front right side of the coffin. Once everyone was used to its weight, Kendra thanked them again and then lead the tiny procession into the cemetery.

The gravel path crunched under their feet as they followed its winding course among the graves. They had just rounded another bend in the trail when they saw in front of them a group of a dozen men. They were dressed in the dark, plain clothing favored by the local farmers, and all were carrying farm equipment such as rakes, hoes, pitchforks, sickles, scythes and hammers. The tallest was an older, wiry man, with thick muttonchops and a sledgehammer. He stepped forward as the procession paused.

“That's far enough,” the man said, his voice hard. “We been talking, and we don't want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain't goin' in the ground here!”

Kendra answered immediately, her sadness swiftly turning to rage. “What are you talking about,” she demanded shrilly. “I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He's waiting for us! The grave's already been...”

Buffy's eyes narrowed as the man cut Kendra off. “You don't get it woman.” Buffy looked around for a moment, until she noticed a fist sized stone among the gravel next to her. “We won't have a necromancer buried in the same place as our kin.” Buffy dug her toes under the stone and with a gentle kick of her foot, careful so as not to shift her long dress, she sent the rock straight up to her hand, catching it out of the air. “I suggest you move out while you still can.” Buffy tossed the stone in her hand for a moment, testing its weight. “Folks are pretty upset about this right now.”

Buffy threw her stone, striking the man in the forehead with enough force to daze him, taking him to his knees in his surprise. “What do you think your doing,” Buffy growled. “This is a funeral. How deficient are you that you would do this to someone grieving their father! Now unless you want to give the gravediggers more work, I suggest you leave.” The crowd hesitated for a moment, still angry but surprised over their leader's injury. Buffy called up every bit of her slayerness and glared menacingly at the men. “Now would be good,” she said, her voice glacial.

All was quiet for a moment, until finally two of the men helped the leader to his feet and they all moved off, still grumbling but unwilling to start a fight. Kendra threw Buffy a grateful look, to which she responded with a reassuring smile. Pausing a moment for everyone to collect themselves, the group pressed on.

Standing next to an open grave were a pair of men with shovels and an old, wrinkled bald man with bushy white eyebrows and prominent ears wearing a black robe. When they reached the grave Buffy and the other pallbearers carefully lowered the coffin onto a set of straps and they then used them to lower Petros to his final resting place. Once that task was done the group backed up and formed a semicircle around the open grave with the robed man standing in front of it.

When the man cleared his throat and began to speak, Buffy recognized him as the man who had sent the message to her to summon her for the funeral. “Family and friends, we are gathered here to commend our friend, Petros Lorrimor, to the bosom of Pharasma, so that he may find his place in the cosmos. Petros lived a good life, teaching students, sharing knowledge freely, always generous with his worldly possessions, and willing to help anyone in need.

“While our loss of Petros is a sad occasion, let us not be overwrought. For he is now in a better place, in the presence of our goddess. Mourn for us, living in this harsh world without him, but do not mourn for him, for his fate is not one to be dreaded, but rather accepted, for it comes to us all in the fullness of time.

“Now, let us lower our heads in prayer, that we may let Pharasma know that a good soul has come before her for her judgment, and that we who knew him in life will dearly miss him. Someday we will see him again, but that day will not be this day. Not this year, not yet. For this life has much left for us, and we must live it to our best, as he would have wanted.

“Let us now have a moment of silent prayer for the soul of Petros Lorrimor.” So saying, he lowered his head, as did everyone else. After a long pause he raised his head again and placed his closed fist on his chest, a move mimicked by the others. When he spoke again, they all traced a spiral on their chests with their fists. “May the Lady keep you, Petros Lorrimor.”

“Thank you, Father Grimburrow,” Kendra said quietly, wiping her eyes as she stepped forward, facing the gathering. “Thank you all for coming here. My father was a good man. He always took time for me, even after the death of mother when I was so young. We both missed her terribly, but I always knew he loved me, no matter what happened in our lives.

“I remember when I was twelve, a group of Inquisitors came to our home. They were such hard men, they scared me so. But they had come to father for help. They were hunting a demon that had been summoned by a witch, and when they had killed her it had become free to work its own evil. They knew little about it, and did not know how to kill it, or even find it. But my father was a well known scholar, and he did indeed know what to do. When those men arrived they had been tired and desperate, but he gave them hope along with his council, and sure enough, they sent word soon after that his knowledge had saved many lives.

“Another time, when I was a teenager, he had to leave home for weeks. I was so upset, because it was close to my birthday and I wanted my father here, but he said he had to go. When he returned, barely in time to celebrate with me, I was still angry with him. I found out a week later that he had tracked down a cult who had poisoned an entire town and helped the authorities bring them to justice. I had been upset he was gone, when he was saving hundreds of lives. When I found out and apologized, he told me that it was fine that I was upset with him. After all, I missed him, and no matter what good he did for the world, I needed him too.

“Father always did what was best for me. The thing that I think I will always remember, even more than the times he saved lives, or did something heroic, was something he said to me. I was fifteen, and I wanted to learn magic. But I was afraid as well, having seen and heard some of the things that could go wrong from my father's work. But he found out that I was interested and he sat me down and told me to follow my dreams. That if I wanted to learn magic, I should learn magic, and that he would always support me. When I confessed my fears he said that I shouldn't fear failure, or doing the wrong thing. The only thing I should truly fear is never trying. I have tried to live that way ever since, and I will continue to do so, in memory of the best father in all of Golarion.”

After speaking Kendra stepped back with the rest of the group, crying quietly for a few moments. Buffy's heart ached, missing her mother and sister more than ever as she watched Kendra's pain. When Kendra brought herself back under control Zokar stepped forward. “Petros was a good man, and a regular patron of my tavern for all of the years he lived here in Ravengro. He was a wise man, and was always ready with an ear to listen to anyone's problems, or a helpin' hand to make sure that those problems didn't cause anyone to sink. But the thing I remember best, was the advice he gave me when my wife past eight year back. It was too much runnin' the tavern by my lonesome, with a kid to rear beside, and he sat me down and tol' me that of course I was screwin' up. I was human. An' my wife knew it too. That she would only be upset with me if I stopped screwin' up, cause that meant I stopped tryin'.

“It's gonna be hard on all o' us to keep on without Petros. But all the same, it's all we can do. An' if we fail now an' again, that's alright too. Cause if he was still with us when we failed, he would be the first to help us back up an' on our way. So even if he's gone, all we can do is as he said, and keep fallin' down, so long as we keep on gettin' back up again.”

When Zokar finished and returned to his place Buffy stepped forward, her eyes on the grave. “I didn't know Petros for long, but we went through something that makes you feel close quickly, you know? When I met him I had been poisoned, and was so out of my mind I still don't have any clueage as to what happened. But I do remember him taking care of me. Doubt I was very good with the first impressions, but I know he made one on me.”

Buffy smiled sadly, blinking away tears. Being drugged out of mind had reminded her painfully of the demon that had stung her just weeks before everything fell apart. She might have survived the poison without him, but Buffy doubted she would have made it through everything that had happened so well without his support. Just having a friendly face made all the difference in the world, she thought, images of her friends that had kept her alive and slaying for so long in her head.

“When I came to,” she continued, forcing her voice steady. “We were locked up together in a cell, being held by monsters. He didn't try to hide what was happening from me, or try to protect me like some damsel or something, but he did try to reassure me. Before long, I was promising to free us, and he promised to help me with a problem I had. And when I did free us, he didn't even hesitate. He just started to help me.

“We only spent a few weeks together,” Buffy said, looking around at the sad gathering. “But those weeks meant a lot to me. He was a good man. Brave, selfless, willing to help a stranger in need. And he was smart. He liked to learn, even though he was already so big with the knowledge. The whole world is a sadder place without him in it.”

Buffy stepped back into her position, and Kendra gave her a tremulous smile, which she returned to the best of her ability. Kendra looked around the circle of mourners for a moment before stepping forward once more. “I want to thank you all for coming today. It really meant more than words can say to have you here with me at this difficult time.”

Buffy stood back and watched as Kendra slowly made her way through each of the guests, thanking them for their words of condolence, even as the gravediggers slowly filled in the dirt over her father. Buffy smiled sadly, impressed. She had been a wreck when her mother died, only holding herself together by sheer willpower, keeping herself together for Dawn and her duty, and also her pride, which wouldn't let her show weakness, even to those she loved. Kendra was obvious very sad for her loss, but she wasn't crumbling or pushing it away to keep moving. She just dealt with it. Four months ago Buffy wouldn't have thought much of it, but she was no longer burned out and barely hanging on. Now Buffy could only be impressed at the strength her friend's daughter possessed.

Finally Kendra finished talking to the others, and she approached Buffy, she had a sad but real smile on her face. “Thank you for what you said. I always knew my father was brave man, but I never really had the chance to speak with many of the people he went into danger with, and on his own he rarely spoke of his accomplishments. He was always my hero, and it makes me proud to hear about him being strong.”

“Your father was a hero,” Buffy told her seriously. “He was a very kind and brave man, and he managed to raise a strong daughter. I didn't know him long, but I could tell how proud he was of you.”

Kendra wiped a few tears from her eyes. “Thank you. You made quite the impression on him yourself, you know. He talked about you often these last months.”

“Really?” Buffy asked, surprised.

Kendra smiled at her gently. “Yes, very much so. In fact, a month ago he updated his will to include you. Which, in point of fact, we should see to.”

“Huh?”

“The will reading. Councilman Hearthmount has some business to attend to, but he will be available to read the will in about an hour. If you would like to accompany me, we could talk some more before then.”

“I'd be honored,” Buffy replied, slightly surprised to realize that she actually was.

The two walked in contemplative silence through the town, gathering Mr. Gordo and Buffy's possessions as they went, until finally the reached the Lorrimor residence. It was a nice home, not too large, but not too small, made of sturdy if dull gray stone like the rest of the town. “Welcome to my home,” Kendra said, smiling slightly.

Buffy looked around as she entered. The first thing she noticed, even before she looked, was the smell of old books, the scent even heavier in the air than in Giles' apartment. Every wall was covered in wooden shelves, and every shelf was full of leather bound tomes. The rest of the furnishings were moderately expensive but obviously well used tables, chairs, and couches, with various nicknacks and decorations scattered about at random. All in all, even more than the library feel it should have had, it felt like a home.

Kendra ushered Buffy onto a comfortable couch before disappearing into the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later with a tray laden with tea and small cookies. “Thanks. You really didn't have to.”

Kendra smiled sadly. “It's no trouble at all. What would my father think of me if I wasn't a good hostess, anyway? Now then, milk? Sugar? Honey?”

“Three sugars please.”

Kendra raised an eyebrow but didn't comment as she added them to the tea. “I wanted to thank you again for saving my father from those vampires.”

“You don't have to thank me. I was taken captive too, you know. And even if I wasn't, I wouldn't have just left some vamps un-slain.”

“Yes, father mentioned that you were a mystically chosen warrior called the Vampire Slayer.”

“Yup. Which made it really embarrassing when I got taken captive.”

“Please, tell me more about what happened.”

Buffy smiled and did so, making sure to tell Kendra about what her father did in particular. Kendra was a good listener, asking pertinent questions but mostly letting Buffy explain things in her own way. Without even realizing it Buffy found herself telling her everything she had done since she had arrived in Golarion.

“These were the boots he gave me. They were made by elves or something. Aren't they cute?”

Kendra leaned forward slightly, smiling at them. “They do look very nice. You said they were boots of elvenkind?”

“I guess so. I mostly focused on how cute they were. But when I put them on they resized to fit me exactly. And they're so comfortable!”

“Yes, they are probably boots of elvenkind then.”

“What are those?”

Kendra sat up straight and began to lecture. Buffy smiled fondly as her new friend resembled a young female Giles strongly in that moment. “Boots of elvenkind were originally created by the elves for their rangers and other guardians. They are responsible for some of the actions attributed to elves in stories, in particular some of the incredibly feats of agility and balance associated with them. People who wear boots of elvenkind are able to walk lightly and safely across even the most rough or uneven surfaces.”

“Huh,” Buffy said, looking at her feet. “That sounds handy. Still cute though.”

“Yes,” Kendra agreed, sounding amused. “Very cute.”

Buffy grinned in response, but before she could speak she was interrupted by a knock at the door. “That's probably Councilman Hearthmount now for the will reading. Just a moment.”

Kendra returned a minute later with Councilman Hearthmount, who hadn't changed from the funeral and still leaned on his cane as he walked. “Would you like some tea, Councilman?” Kendra asked him as he sat in a wingback chair across from the couch Buffy and Kendra had been sharing.

“No thank you,” he said gruffly. “If it's all the same to you I'd prefer to conclude this business.”

“Of course.”

Councilman Hearthmount pulled a small wooden scroll case from under his jacket before showing the it to Kendra. The end of the tube was coated in red wax with a seal pressed into it at one point. “I'm sorry for you loss, Kendra. Petros was a good man.” He paused for a moment for her to nod before continuing. “As you can see, the case with his will is still sealed. He left instructions for it to be opened when you and Miss Summers were present, and so we have waited until now to do so. If there are no questions?”

He waited until Kendra shook her head, ignoring Buffy while he did so, until finally he pulled out a short knife and broke the wax seal. Opening the tube he removed the single vellum sheet within and slowly unrolled it, a heavy iron key falling onto the coffee table with a clank when he did so. Clearing his throat, the Councilman began to read. “I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them as you see fit, my child.

“Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading of this document to be delayed until all principles can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I have two final favors to ask.

“To my friend Buffy Summers, I hate to impose upon you after the way that you saved me that night, but there are few others capable of appreciating the true significance of what I ask. As you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one's enemy is the surest path to victory over it's plans.

“And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you either give them to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, or put them to good use yourself for the betterment of the fight against evil. In addition, that trunk contains all of my work on the problem that you gave me when we first met. I hope that I have found the solution before I perished, so that I can repay you for the debt that I owe.

“Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt or any other destination, there is the matter of another favor – please delay your journey one month and spend that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in settling things in order for whatever she desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to you a sum of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Luramin Taigh at the Silk Purse, the moneylender in Ravengro, with instructions to issue this payment no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will.

“I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravegnro on this first day of Erastus, in the year 4711.”

Councilman Hearthmount cleared his throat and carefully rolled up the will, placing it and its case on the table beside the key before using his cane to stand. “Once again, I give my condolences, Miss Lorrimor.” Kendra rose and escorted the Councilman out.

Buffy frowned slightly as she noticed that at no point the Councilman even looked at her. When Kendra returned Buffy smiled at her slightly. “Well, he was friendly.”

Kendra chuckled slightly. “Don't worry about him. He doesn't overmuch like the presence of outsiders disrupting his neat little town. Now then, will you be staying for the month?”

“Yup. I'll go find the inn and...”

“Oh no!” Kendra interrupted, shaking her head emphatically. “That cannot do! No, I must insist that you stay here. It is truly the least that I can do when you are going to so much trouble for my sake.”

“It really isn't any trouble at all. And I wouldn't want to get in your way or anything...”

“Please, I would be happy to have you stay. And beside that, these last few weeks have been so lonely. It would do me well to have a friend here...”

When Kendra trailed off uncertainly Buffy jumped in. “Of course we'll be friends. Thanks for letting me stay.”

“Well then,” Kendra said, smiling bigger than Buffy had seen from her so far, “time has flown on us a bit, so perhaps we should see to our repast?”

“Huh?”

“We should eat.”

“Why didn't you just say so,” Buffy said, rolling he eyes.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Buffy had been resting late trying to make up for sleep lost on her frantic trip to Ravengro until she was jerked awake by a loud knock at her door. “Whud'ya w'n,” she answered as clearly as possible.

Instead of going away as she had hoped the door opened and a far too amused voice pulled her back out of her drowse. “Good morning, Buffy.”

“Buffy and morning are unmixy things,” Buffy said, leveling a slayer strength glare near Kendra. It would have been more effective if she could have aimed it better, but she was too sleepy to try, and so the dresser took the bulk of her wrath.

“Unmixy? How tired are you?” Kendra asked amused. “And I hope I don't hear anymore complaints about my use of the language.”

“I'm the slayer,” Buffy grumbled, burying her head back into her pillow. “I kill things that go bump in the night. Which means I go bumping in the night after them. Not get up at the crack of dawn.”

“Closer to the crack of noon than dawn I should think. Its almost 10 of the clock. Besides which, something odd has happened, oh slayer of bumping things.”

“What?”

Twenty minutes later Buffy was dressed and eating the fresh berry pastries Kendra had made for breakfast as they strolled down the dirt lane along the outskirts of Ravengro. “So, what's the what?”

“What?” Kendra asked, bewildered.

“Exactly. What's going on?”

“Oh... Well, you'll just have to wait and see for yourself.”

“Come on,” Buffy said, turning her best pout on her new friend. “At least tell me whats up with the weird makeup.”

Kendra's smile turned somber. “We Pharasman's put ash on our eyelids for five days after the burial of a loved one to show our mourning.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, subdued. “Sorry.”

“Don't worry. As my father would have said, never fear asking questions.”

“Then how about the question of the day. What are you dragging me off at the crack of dawn to see?”

Kendra rolled her eyes, though she was smiling again. “We're here.”

A small crowd had gathered around a large stone statue along the riverbank. It was more than twenty feet tall and covered in moss, depicting a well built man dressed in leather and holding a truncheon. As they approached they could see that the statue was spattered with blood. “What is this?” Buffy asked, her eyes taking in the scene.

“This is the Harrowstone Memorial. It was built to honor the guards, the warden and his wife, who all died when Harrowstone Prison burned fifty years ago.”

“What's with the blood?”

“It happened during the night. But that's not the strangest part. Look.”

Buffy peered through the crowd to where Kendra was pointing. At the base of the statue was a large, flat area with twenty-five names chiseled into the stone. Scrawled along the left front side of the flat area, partially covering the first column of names, was a single large letter 'V' written in blood.

“Huh. And I was afraid I was gonna get bored.”

**Author's Notes**  
This officially started the Carrion Crown Adventure Path with #43, the Haunting of Harrowstone. I lifted a couple of lines of dialog directly from that book, specifically the conversation between Kendra and the troublemakers and most of Petros' will (which I modified to better suit my purposes). I also used information on Pharasma from AP44, Trial of the Beast.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**Signs of Trouble**

 

Buffy and Kendra spent some time searching the monument for clues, before finally giving up. The ground had been thoroughly trampled by the townsfolk, preventing Buffy from finding any usable tracks, and no one had seen or heard anything the previous evening. Eventually they had returned to Kendra's home, and set about making a light lunch.

After eating, Kendra slipped away and returned with a small but sturdy chest made of wood and iron. “This is father's chest. If you would care to do the honors?”

Buffy picked up the iron key that they had left on the table the night before and turned it in the lock. Opening the chest, she found that it contained five books as well as a collection of documents covered in a cramped handwriting that she recognized as Petros'. Pulling the books out, Buffy frowned at the topmost one. It was the newest by far, a simple leather bound journal with the words 'read me now!' scratched into its cover. Flipping through it she saw that it was a diary, also in his handwriting.

The other books were more what she had expected from the will. The topmost was the copy of the Pnakotic Manuscripts that Petros and Buffy had worked together to retrieve months ago in the tunnels under Carrion Hill. Below it was a jet black book called On Verified Madness, which resembled some of Giles' demonology books, focusing on some extremely unusual creatures, including the queller demon she had slain when it went after her mother while she was ill.

The next book was called Serving Your Hunger, and it turned out to be the holy book for Urgathoa, whose undead servants Buffy had foiled in Thrushmoor and Rozenport. She stopped flipping through the book when she realized that interspersed between the boring religious passages were random recipes, many for cooking people. The final book was called The Umbral Leaves, and it appeared to be another religious book for a crazy evil god, although this one at least didn't seem fond of cannibalism.

Looking at the papers, Buffy saw that they were notes taken from the Pnakotic Manuscripts, and seemed to be his research towards finding a way for her to return home. Unfortunately, Buffy knew little about the magic used in her own world, and Golarion had its own jargon and methodology for the arcane, leaving her completely at a loss.

“What did you find?” Kendra asked when she set the pages down.

“Well, most of the books are what I was expecting. Crazy evil books on monsters and stuff. Also, the book that we found to help me go home, and his notes on that. I have no clue why he stuck his diary in here, though. I mean, random much?”

“He had been very busy most of the last month working on something for you. He mentioned that you could not go home, but I never found out the entirety of the tale.”

Buffy leaned back on the couch and picked up the journal, fiddling with it slightly. Finally, she took a deep breath and started talking. The only time she had told the story in full of her trip was when she had been forced by Annika's thrall, but with some distance from the painful events Buffy decided to tell Kendra everything that had happened. She hadn't spoken for any real length to anyone in months, and Buffy, having always been a somewhat social person, had found herself feeling lonely.

“That's terrible,” Kendra said quietly. “How could your friend do such a thing?”

“I don't know,” Buffy said, her voice pained. “I don't think I'll ever understand it. When she got caught up in the magics, she wasn't really Willow anymore. She was just dark magic and anger. But... she still did it. Every time I think about it I get so angry, and I hate her for what she did.”

Kendra could see Buffy's hesitation. “Is that all you feel?”

“Willow was my best friend for so long. She hurt me a bunch of times, but I hurt her a bunch of times too, you know? We did everything together, and she gave up so much, got into the magics in the first place, to help me. Heck, I encouraged her to do it more. Called her my big gun. If I hadn't, she never would have turned into that. But...”

“But?”

“But I still hate her. She killed my sister. But its my fault too.”

“Its not your fault,” Kendra said, her voice gentle. “She made her choices. Some acts of magic stain your soul, and lead you into true evil. But she still chose to start that path, even if it did not lead where she intended.”

“I know. But part of me... part of me still loves her, you know? She was my best friend.”

“And you feel guilty,” Kendra said quietly. Buffy looked up at her sharply. “You feel guilty because you still care about Willow, even though she killed your sister.”

Buffy closed her eyes, willing away tears. “Yeah,” she forced out, her throat thick.

Kendra slowly leaned over and hugged Buffy, who sat stiffly for a long moment before relaxing into her new friend's arms. “You shouldn't feel guilty about it. Of course you still love her. She was your best friend. That doesn't mean you love your sister any less.”

“I can't forgive what she did,” Buffy said, her voice hard as she pulled back.

“Then you can't. Some things can't be forgiven. Just don't let it consume you. Someone she loved died, and look what she did when she sought naught but vengeance.”

Buffy felt like she had been splashed with cold water. “Your right. I don't know if I could kill her, even if I had too, even after what she did. But I can't forgive her.”

Kendra just nodded patiently. After giving Buffy a moment to collect herself, she changed the subject, picking up the loose papers. “So these are father's notes on getting you home?”

“Yeah. You said yesterday that you know magic. Do you think you could figure any of that out?”

“Hmm. Given time. I doubt I could with nothing but the book he was using, he was an expert in his field after all, but I should at least be able to figure out his notes. If he was close to an answer, I think I will be able to finish it.”

“I don't know if you should,” Buffy said hesitantly, her desire to get home warring with memories of someone else who used dangerous magics. “He didn't want you exposed to this stuff. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.”

“Don't worry, Buffy. I am an adult, even older than you, and I will be very careful. But I will finish this. It was my father's last project, and I will not leave it undone.” Kendra grabbed the Pnakotic Manuscripts and gathered all of Petros' notes before taking them to a desk on the other side of the room and beginning to work.

Buffy sat in thought for a few minutes, before finally cracking open Petros' journal. She wasn't sure why he had scrawled 'read me now!' on its cover, but she didn't have much better to do than try to find out. Unfortunately, the book was thick and Petros' cramped handwriting wasn't easy to read, so she had a lengthy project before her. It reminded her of reading Watcher's journals in that both managed to transform accounts of investigating and stopping monsters into something duller than a description of watching paint dry. Petros' journal was actually worse, in that it was actually his diary, and therefore the majority of it was actually composed of his accounts of day to day life in Ravengro, which wasn't exactly the most exciting town she had ever seen.

By the time Kendra turned in for the night Buffy had skimmed her way to the sections that mentioned her, and she blushed when she read his glowing accolades for her and her accomplishments. He had recorded everything she had told him, and she could scarcely believe that he was so impressed with the monsters she had slain in his presence. Just when she was preparing to go to sleep, she noticed a passage only a little over a month before his death had been circled with red ink. Frowning, Buffy read it closer. Apparently, it had come to his attention that someone was poking around the ruins of the prison, and he was concerned about their motives.

Several entries before his death were also marked with red ink, and Buffy felt like hitting her head against a wall. She had spent an entire day reading about small town life in the journal of a man who could give Giles' lectures on dry record keeping when he had marked what he wanted her to see right from the start. Shaking her head, she continued reading, but what she found left her frowning deeply.

The next morning when she awoke she tracked down Kendra, who was already up and had a light breakfast waiting for Buffy in the kitchen. After finishing her own breakfast Kendra had settled back at the same desk as the evening before, and was hard at work on her project. After eating Buffy tapped Kendra on the shoulder, as she hadn't acknowledged her when she had tried to get her attention.

“What,” Kendra finally asked as she looked up, her eyes still distant.

Buffy frowned. “Kendra, I've got something I think you should hear.”

“Is it important? This work is most fascinating, although a bit disturbing as well, I must acknowledge.”

“Yeah. This is way important. Big time important.”

Kendra sighed and set her quill down, turning to face Buffy. “Out with it then.”

“Remember how your dad's journal had 'read me first!' scratched on it? Well, I did, last night. And there is some stuff in here that is all kinds of badness. Listen, this is from four days before he died. 'It is confirmed. Whoever has come is quite interested in something – no, strike that – someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, are they after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list.'”

“Someone was here causing trouble?” Kendra asked. “But father...”

“Yeah. I thought it was a bit weird that he was poking around that prison anyway. I mean, why would he just up and go 'I'm going to look in these ruins', when he'd been living here like, practically forever?”

“So father had his accident because someone was causing trouble here and he was investigating. Did he write anything else?”

“Yeah. This is from the day before he died. 'I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation – hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Pharasma used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.'”

“Ghosts?” Kendra echoed thoughtfully. “So the prison truly is haunted.”

“Yeah. I hate ghosts. I've fought spirit thingees a couple of times, and it was the most fun you can have without having any. I mean, I can totally kick ass. But ghosts? Not so much ass to kick.”

“Yes, but if there was some equipment to combat them, more of it may yet remain. I would prefer not to take it unless we have to however. Taking church property makes me uncomfortable, however righteous the cause.”

“Yeah. But if the ghosts are causing trouble, we'll totally need it. Anyway, he wrote one more entry. 'Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative that whoever is doing this does not finish. My caution has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don't have time to update my will, so I'll leave this in the chest where it'll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass.'”

“What do you think we should do?”

“Well, if the town is in trouble, then of course we'll need to save it. And if whoever was causing trouble killed Petros...”

Kendra's face hardened. “Then we catch them.”

Buffy nodded grimly in reply.

After their conversation, Buffy decided to hit the books. While she had never been research girl, Kendra was busy on the project that could eventually lead to her returning home, so she certainly wasn't going to drag her away from that for a not so pressing concern. After all, while the town had a somewhat ominous feel to it with her spidey-sense, it may well have had such a feel forever. The only really weird occurrence since she had arrived had been the bloody letter 'V' that had been painted onto the Harrowstone memorial, but even that wasn't necessarily supernatural, especially as no one had been reported missing and no bodies had been found. So, in the end, she decided to hit the books and brush up on her ghost lore and anything she could find about Harrowstone.

The only problem with researching in the Lorrimor home was the sheer magnitude of Petros' book collection. Every room was full of shelves, and every shelf was loaded to the brink of collapse with thick tomes. It would have made Giles unimaginably happy, but Buffy found it simply frustrating. However, her past experiences fighting ghosts had been less than positive, and after her encounter with the vampires of Golarion, she had learned to take nothing for granted.

Eventually she had found dozens of entities that could reasonably be found haunting an abandoned prison, from actual ghosts, to wraiths, haunts, spectres, and many other things besides. It was frustrating, but she learned all that she could about every type of creature that was likely to cause her problems if she had to visit the prison, and if anything else was there, or in the likely case she forgot something, Buffy decided she would simply have to improvise. It had always worked before, after all.

Satisfied with her research into potential foes, Buffy then turned her attentions to the prison itself. It had been built more than a century before to house the most dangerous criminals in all of Ustalav, and Ravengro had been built around it to provide for the prison's needs. Harrowstone had also had the dubious distinction of being the primary execution site for the entire country, and it had been in that capacity that some of Ustalav's most notorious criminals had been killed there.

The fire, while a terrible tragedy, had in some ways prevented a potentially worse situation, as before the fire started the criminals had rioted and taken control of the prison. In the end, the Warden had sacrificed himself and his most of his men to trap the prisoners within, and things had been at an impasse until the fire broke out, killing the out of control convicts and their jailers beside them.

Buffy frowned as she processed what she had discovered. The combination of dangerous, rioting prisoners, a long history of executions, and the sacrifice of the guards could easily have caused spirits to linger in the ruined prison. Unfortunately, nothing she found pointed at what criminals might have been in the prison at the time of its destruction, and without knowing the history of the ghosts, it would be far more difficult to overcome them. She could definitely understand why Petros had decided to go to the church to research prison records.

 

* * *

 

Buffy walked along a cobblestoned street surrounded by plain buildings of dull gray stone. The sky was gray and full of clouds, and all around her a dispirited drizzle of rain spattered down onto the world, yet Buffy remained dry. Slowly Buffy turned in place, unable to determine where she should go. One street seemed to extend to the horizon, the only break in its dismal gray a trail of bloody footprints leading to her own bare feet. In the other direction the street eventually ended in a large structure, dark and shadowed as though in silhouette, despite the lack of direct lighting of any kind.

Finally Buffy began to walk towards the building in the distance as she guessed that the bloody footprints showed which way she had already come. As she walked the rain slowly increased, beating down on the world and robbing her of most of the visibility, yet leaving her dry and not interfering any with her view of the shadow ahead. Looking behind, she noticed that her bloody footprints were undisturbed as well.

Eventually the road widened out into a large open square, empty of anything except a broken statue at its center. Approaching it Buffy could see that it was the stone statue of a prison guard that served as a memorial to Harrowstone, but it had been shattered with terrible force. Looking up suddenly Buffy could see a cloaked figure standing on a rooftop, observing her. She didn't know why, but she knew that whatever it was it wanted to kill her.

“Damn B,” a voice behind her said. “You always were good at pissin' people off.”

Buffy spun, only to find Faith slouching nonchalantly behind her. She was dressed in an orange prison outfit, and like Buffy she was barefoot, with a trail of bloody footprints running parallel to her own stretching into the distance. Unlike Buffy, however, she was soaking wet. “Faith,” Buffy said.

“Well, this one is better than our last dream, but do I hafta be gettin' this wet, B?”

“Here,” Buffy said, reaching into her bag of holding and pulling out her Class Protector umbrella. “Take it.”

“Look, we got off on the wrong foot in the first place 'cause you kept thinkin' I was wantin' what was yours...”

“Don't worry, Faith. I know how heavy it is. You only have to carry it by yourself for a little while.”

Reluctantly Faith took the umbrella, nearly falling as she did so. “Damn, B! How much does this thing weight?”

“It's heavier than a mountain, Faith.”

“Was that always so close?” Faith asked pointing into the distance as she carefully hefted the umbrella. Turning around Buffy saw that the shadowy building was much closer, but she still couldn't make it out.

Turning back to Faith, Buffy saw that she was now dry, although she looked very tired as she cradled the umbrella like it was the most precious thing in the world. Before she could open her mouth singing began from her left. Turning quickly Buffy saw five little girls all wearing colorful but bloodstained dresses and long scarves skipping rope. Two girls held the rope, while another skipped, and the last two sung the verses of a song. “Put her body on the bed. Take a knife and lop her head. Watch the blood come out the pipe. Feed the stirge, so nice and ripe. Drops of red so sparkly bright. Splatters spell her name just right. With a hammer killed his wife. Now he wants to claim your life. Tricksy father tells a lie. Listen close or you will die.”

“Damn, B,” Faith said, bemused. “And her I was thinkin' the whole bed makin' thing was weird. And I think that thing got closer again.”

Looking back Buffy saw that the shadowy building seemed to be right at the entrance to the street, but she still couldn't make it out. However, she could feel it, and to her supernatural senses it was like standing in front of an open Hellmouth.

Before Buffy could say or do anything the world lit up as the rain falling from the sky ceased to be droplets of water and become tongues of flame. Every building, from horizon to horizon, were instantly engulfed in flame, yet still the large building remained in shadow. Looking around, Buffy was surprised to see the cloaked figure still standing on the burning roof, not all all perturbed by the flames surrounding it. If anything, Buffy got the sense that it was pleased.

“Better watch out, B. You've got a long way to go still, and we're waitin' for ya to get your ass in gear. Your gonna need this to get home.” Buffy turned back to her to see her offering a large tarnished brass key, its metal an off shade of green in the ruddy light of the flames. Picking it up, she could feel a gentle warmth, and looking to the side she could now see enormous silver gates with a great black spiral drawn around a keyhole at their center. “Hurry up, B. You've got a long way to go, and lots ta do, before ya get back.”

“Don't worry, Faith,” Buffy said as she slowly walked towards the gates. “I know you'll take care of it while I'm gone.”

 

* * *

 

Buffy jerked awake suddenly, sitting up from the book she had fallen asleep on, the slayer dream still echoing in her confused mind. Looking up at what awoke her she was surprised to find Kendra already dressed and ready to leave the house. “What's the what,” she asked groggily.

“Its been five days since we buried father, so today is the last official day of mourning. I was planning to visit his grave, if you would care to accompany me.”

“Sure. How are you doing?”

“It's hard,” Kendra said, her voice sad but steady. “However, I had already had more than two weeks to adjust before the funeral, and now I have an interesting project keeping me busy. I think I will be alright.”

“When mom died...” Buffy began before trailing off for a moment. “It was bad. I had to take care of... of my sister, and fight the hardest battle of my life at the same time. I was a wreck.”

“Yes. Losing my mother when I was a child was difficult, but father helped me through it. It was not too long after that that he stopped teaching and we moved here. He still had his research, which often took him travelling, but he had more time for me.”

“I'm amazed at how well you've dealt. You, know something? I knew another Kendra once. She was a slayer too. I'm starting to think that Kendras are strong people.”

“And I'm starting to think that Buffys are strange people,” Kendra said, her eyes twinkling. “Not that that is terribly surprising, given the nature of the name.”

Buffy pouted. “Why do people always make fun of my name? Except this really nice halfling I met. She liked my name.”

Kendra just giggled in response as they headed for the door.

The two shared a quiet, contemplative walk to the cemetery. The sky was overcast again, with an unseasonable chill in the air that made Buffy shiver, used as she was to California's very temperate climate. When they reached Petros' grave Kendra knelt and began to pray quietly, and Buffy took a moment to marshall her own thoughts.

She hadn't known Petros for long, but losing another friend so soon after losing Dawn and Tara made her insides feel like broken glass. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she could understand Willow's desire to hunt down and kill the person responsible for taking someone she cared about away. It was the same instinct that sent her after Faith when she poisoned Angel, and she had felt the same urge when Tara had died, and even stronger when Dawn had... discorporated. But despite how hot her passion might run, she remembered her regret for hurting Faith, and she remembered what Willow's madness had led to. In the end, Buffy just really really hoped that whoever had killed Petros was firmly a member of the slayable list.

Finally tired of think such weighty thoughts, Buffy decided to stretch her legs. Walking through cemeteries was comforting to her after so many years of patrols, although doing so during the day felt very odd. Suddenly Buffy felt something, a chill running down her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as a subtle touch of spiritual forces agitated her supernatural senses. Freezing, she slowly took in her surroundings, unsure of what she was sensing.

Buffy's assessing gaze stopped as she saw something that she had seen before, somehow even more disturbing in its new, out of place location than it had been in its proper context. The closest tombstone was marked with the name 'Buffy Summers'. 'Come to my world, and be as I; as I am now, soon you will be; embrace your end and witness me',” the inscription read. Below it was the date, 4661 AR, the year that Harrowstone had burned.

Buffy looked around and saw that Kendra was still praying. When she looked back again she blinked in shock.

The weathered tombstone was blank.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Buffy was once more hustled from her bed by Kendra and led half asleep to the Harrowstone memorial. As before a crowd had gathered, and despite it having been scrubbed clean it was once more spattered with blood. Buffy pushed through the townsfolk and saw that now two letters were marked over the names at the base of the statue. In fresh, red blood were the letters 'VE'.

**Author's Notes**  
This chapter draws once again from The Haunting of Harrowstone. The journal entries are from that volume, although I altered them slightly to fit my altered back story for the adventure. The rope skipping rhyme is from that book as well, as is the message on the tombstone.

That was my first attempt at a dream sequence, but it felt right to me. A bunch of information there, although its probably difficult to interpret without knowing everything. The rope skipping song was just supposed to be an event that occurred with real children in the street, but it felt odd when I wrote it that way. I mean, how often does a random nursery rhyme you just happen to overhear children singing contain important information for later? Slayer dreams make much more sense as a conveyance method for creepy and cryptic clues.

This was also the first time I've ever written Faith. I'll blame any out of characterness on the fact it was a slayer dream.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**Growing Dread**

 

Buffy smiled up at the stars as she walked, reveling in the familiarity of strolling though a cemetery under the cover of darkness. Between the strange vision of her tombstone the day before, and the bloody writing on the monument that morning, not even counting her slayer dream, Buffy had decided that it was time to check out the potential stash of ghost busting equipment the church had apparently been keeping in a false crypt in the graveyard.

When she had first arrived in Golarion the stars in the sky had been strange and unfamiliar. Having never left California, the experience of having different stars over her head was an uncomfortable one, and Golarion's sky was far different from just another point on earth. After months of hunting under the cover of darkness in her new world, however, Buffy had become quite accustomed to it. She had even made up a few constellations, from a shaky handful she called the Key, to the wavy line she had dubbed Mr. Pointy, the heavens of the new world were no longer so strange to her.

Buffy had asked Kendra about the layout of the Restlands the day before after her friend had finished at her father's tomb, and she had discovered that the trail Petros was buried near was the Eversleep, and the Black Path was the next path along the trail. Petros' journal had indicated that the the false crypt was supposed to be at the intersection of those two paths, which made it quite easy for her to find.

She was close to the graves which she had seen the strange vision at the day before when once again a chill ran up her spine and her skin prickled. Following her spidey-sense, Buffy walked off the trail and into the rows of graves, stopping in front of an old, weathered tombstone. While the sensations she felt was subtly different from that which would have called her to a tomb in Sunnydale, it was similar enough to cause her to wait at the old grave for whatever was to come.

She didn't have to wait long as the ground before her suddenly began to bulge until, with a burst of dirt, a skeletal hand thrust out of the earth, groping around for a moment, before being joined by its fellow. With a great heave, a skeleton forced its way out of the grave and into the world of the living.

Buffy had not been idle, her years of experience in Sunnydale leading her to pull a stake from her pocket the second she noticed a figure trying to escape its own grave. The undead monster in front of her was very much not a vampire, however, being nothing more than a skeleton with browned bones and the tattered remnants of its funeral shroud caked with dirt. Buffy wasted no time and simply flipped the stake around in her grip, before stepping forward and swinging the piece of wood through a wide, looping arc that knocked the skull from the monster with a sharp crack of breaking bone. It stood still for a moment, before she followed up her initial attack with a single downward blow that shattered its sternum, sending it to the ground in a pile of broken bones.

Buffy looked around the graveyard once more, but everything was still again. “Well,” she muttered under her breath, “I guess that does mean something's up.”

Buffy continued on more cautiously than she had been, but before long she reached her destination without any further complications. The crypt that she had been seeking turned out to be a freestanding granite mausoleum near the intersection of the two paths with a pair of gargoyle statues on its roof. Its door was made also made of stone, with a rusty iron lock holding it shut.

Buffy had learned some basic lock picking from Giles to help her in her duties, and Spike had taught her many more tricks one day when she had needed a distraction after being torn from her rest before she had started sleeping with him. Pulling out her tools, she examined the lock carefully only to put them away with a smirk when she realized the truth. While the lock seemed intact from a distance, it was in fact broken. Carefully opening it she saw that it had been subtly disabled with a few well placed drops of acid, most likely by Petros when he had raided the tomb before her.

Inside the mausoleum were many niches intended for placing the bones of the deceased, but all were empty save a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. Buffy looked at the floor, and quickly noticed the dust had been disturbed fairly recently in a single trail leading deeper into the tomb. Following the trail, Buffy glided down a set of stone steps into an underground crypt which was just as empty as the one above. Pausing until her vision finished adjusting to the near darkness, Buffy carefully followed the trail to a single stone sarcophagus standing by itself at the back of the room.

Buffy widely placed her hands on the lid to maximize her control, and with little effort slid the heavy top to the side to reveal the cache of suplies Petros had written about. Several piles of arrows, some with gleaming silver heads, others of fine make which caused her fingers to tingle slightly when she picked them up sat alongside several tiny bottles, some gold tipped iron rods and a stack of scrolls. Beside all of those was a thin case of dark colored wood with an image of a beetle with a single eye on its back engraved on the lid.

Opening the case, Buffy found that it contained a wooden board with a triangular brass instrument sitting on it, and a set of small glass vials capped with iron on each end. Pulling out one of the vials she immediately saw that contained a small vortex of swirling white vapor, twisting about as though it were a tiny tornado trapped within the green glass. The iron end caps were decorated with intricate runes and small depictions of skulls, and one end had a protrusion that appeared to be able to be rotated, although Buffy declined to do so until she had a chance to find out more about the objects. Looking at the other items, she carefully pulled them from the case and held the board up to the dim moonlight still drifting down through the open doors above. It was covered in the alphabet and several words and numbers, and it took Buffy a minute to realize that she was looking at a ouija board.

Carefully packing up everything, Buffy placed it all in her bag of holding before resealing the sarcophagus. Walking without a sound she exited the tomb and closed its door behind her, setting the lock back into place to give it the appearance of being undisturbed.

Buffy moved carefully as she glided through the night, keeping her senses open for both dangers, having encountered such less than an hour previously, as well as townsfolk that could observe her. While Buffy could probably talk her way out of trouble if she were caught out so late, it could still lead to nasty rumors. The last thing she needed was the superstitious locals believing she was a necromancer or grave robber.

She had reached the dirt road into town and was nearing the cobblestoned main street when she felt the hairs as the back of her neck stand up once again as the feeling of something walking over her grave hit her. Looking around carefully, she soon noticed a disturbance in the dust of the road. Slowly along the ground dust was dislocating as though something were moving down the road, but other than the faint tingle to her slayer senses she could see or feel nothing in the area.

Buffy crouched down next to the marks in the dust and spent several minutes examining them. Despite what certain mouthy winterwolves thought, Buffy knew that she had come a long way with her skills as a tracker since her arrival in Golarion. While a true expert would have figured it out sooner, it did not take overly long for Buffy to deduce that the parallel ruts in the dust were the sort caused by wagon wheels, and the other marks were horse tracks. Following the trail to where it was being generated, she watched the disturbances as they were being made, and finally determined that the trail was seemingly being caused by an ephemeral horse drawn cart slowly heading into town. Following the trail, she was disappointed when it ended at the cobblestones, the sensations her spidey-sense were sending her quickly fading as well.

 

* * *

 

The next day Buffy dove into the books once more, this time trying to figure out what she had found in the fake crypt. The scrolls were meaningless to her, and while she didn't know exactly what kind of magic they had, she knew in general what the enchanted arrows were. Examining the potions, she was able to quickly figure out that they were healing and restoration potions along with several vials of holy water, and so she added them to her pack for later use. That left only the gold tipped rods, and the strange vials in the case along with the ouija board, which she set aside as she began going though Petros' collection of books for any information on the items.

“Where did you manage to locate a spirit planchette?” Kendra asked curiously as she entered the room, looking at the ouija board.

“Huh? A spirit blanket?”

“A spirit planchette. You can use them to communicate with some haunting entities.”

“Oh. We call it a ouija board.”

“Where did you acquire it?”

“The cemetery.”

“I thought we were going to wait until we saw if we would need it.”

“We definitely need it. I was attacked by a skeleton. It just climbed out of its grave last night. Definitely a sign that something is going on.”

“But if you were attacked last night, wouldn't that mean that you had already gone to the graveyard?”

“Well, yeah,” Buffy said, grinning sheepishly. Kendra looked distinctly unimpressed. Finally Buffy sighed, leaning back, her face serious. “I had a slayer dream.”

“A slayer dream? What is that?”

“It's something a slayer gets. They're messages from the PTBs, and they are all with the cryptic. But they tell us stuff we need to know, though usually it's totally worthless until the last second.”

“Do you mean a prophetic dream? What did it say?”

“Like I said, it was big on the cryptic. I'm not sure what it meant, but I do know one thing; I only get slayer dreams when something big is going down.”

Kendra studied Buffy for a minute before nodding seriously. “All right. What do we do?”

Buffy blinked. “I thought I'd have to say more to convince you.”

Kendra shook her head. “I'm a diviner. While I do not get visions of the future, I do know about such things, as the study of divination is my primary mystical interest. I know that visions are usually extremely vague, but if this one has spurred you to action I can only trust your judgement.”

“Okay. Do you know what these are?” Buffy asked, showing her the vials.

Kendra studied it for a moment, before muttering something quietly while making subtle motions with her fingers. “I do not know. They seem to have a faint aura of necromancy, but I'm not sure of their purpose. Did you find anything else?”

“Yeah. Some magic arrows, some silver arrows, a few scrolls, some holy water, and these rod thingees.”

“Those are sun rods. If you strike them they glow brightly for hours. As for the rest, let me examine the arrows for a moment.” She repeated her actions of a moment before, then studied them closely.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm analyzing the magics that created the items to see if I can determine their purpose. It would seem you have ten normal enchanted arrows, five arrows specially designed to harm incorporeal entities, and two intended to slay the undead. They could be very useful if we are to combat ghosts.”

“What about the scrolls?”

Looking through them took Kendra some time, but eventually she seemed satisfied. “They could be useful as well. They contain spells designed for aiding in combating the undead.”

“Well, all I see is some funny squiggly things on paper, so how about you keep those?”

“What should we do now?”

“Now? I want to find out what these vials are. After that I think we need to hit the Temple of Fantasia and see if we can find out who died in the prison fire.”

“Pharasma. And yes, that does sound like a good plan.”

In the end it took most of the day, but Buffy finally found what she was looking for in Petros' bedroom. He had apparently researched the vials himself shortly before his death and had simply never put the books with the answers in them away, making the vials impossible to identify if she hadn't lucked upon them. The vials were haunt siphons, which could drain away the spiritual energies of haunts, weakening them. They were only useable once, but all she would have to do was rotate the end to activate them, draining the haunt. Buffy only had four of them, however, so she decided that she would need to be judicious in their usage.

The next day Buffy managed to drag Kendra away from the house to help her go through the records of the final group of prisoners. The Temple of Pharasma turned out to be an impressive structure, large and solidly built, with the entire eastern facade being an enormous stained glass window. Looking at it as they approached, Buffy was impressed with the level of detail that obviously went into the hand wrought art, although she did not recognize the scene it displayed. She was, however, able to guess that the stern woman judging a richly dressed man at the center of the piece was probably Pharasma, goddess of death.

Inside the building the scent of incense hung heavy in the air, and all was still as no services were being held that day. Buffy followed Kendra past rows of pews to a side hallway where they were met by Father Grimburrow, who had led the service at Petros' funeral. “Hello, child. How are you this day?”

“Hello, Father Grimburrow,” Kendra said politely, a small smile on her face. “I am well.”

“That is good. How may I be of service to you this day?”

“We were hoping to look at your records.”

“Oh? Whatever for?”

“There's something going on,” Buffy interjected. “It looks like ghosts. We're hoping to find some stuff out about who could be causing the troubles.”

Father Grimburrow eyed her for a moment, forcing Buffy to repress the urge to fidget. “Our Lady of Graves is an enemy to all undead abominations. If your research can help lay such to rest, then go with Pharasma's blessing.”

Kendra nodded her head reverently. “Thank you, Father.”

The records room was a small, dusty side chamber packed with heavy books written with cramped semiliterate hands over the more than a century that had passed since Ravengro's founding. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” Buffy said sarcastically.

The records for the townsfolk that had died were easy to find. They had already seen the names before, as they were the twenty-five people recorded on the Harrowstone Memorial. Twenty-three were regular guards, and while Kendra noted them for later reference, nothing stood out as particularly interesting about them. The Warden was named Lyvar Hawkran, and according to the records when the prisoners rioted he triggered a deadfall to ensure that they could not escape, even though doing so trapped him and most of his men in with the prisoners.

Other than the Warden, there was only one interesting name from the list of well known victims. The Warden's wife, Vesorianna Hawkran, should not have been in the prison, yet somehow she had died during the fire. Nothing that they could find in the records indicated why she had perished that day.

The entire prisoner population of Harrowstone had died as well, but the records of most of them contained little of interest to anyone. They were all tried and convicted of various crimes, and were either serving sentences in the prison or were awaiting execution. Eventually, however, Kendra discovered the first name to catch their interest. “Buffy, listen to this one. Vance Saetressle, called The Lopper. He liked to stalk his victims for days, usually hiding in unexpected places, like a closet or hayloft, until his target was alone. Then he beheaded them with his handaxe.”

“Gruesome. Also: freaksome.”

“Indeed. He apparently was scheduled to be executed, but instead died in the fire.”

“That's definitely our first candidate for an angry ghost. And I've got a second. Ispin Onyxcudgle. The Mosswater Marauder. He found his wife cheating on him, so he killed her with a hammer.”

“That doesn't sound that unusual.”

“Yeah, well, he then had the bright idea that he could bring her back to life if he put her skull back together.”

“Alright. That is perhaps a trifle odder than most.”

“He couldn't find the last piece though, so went looking for a replacement.”

“Oh, my. I can already see that not leading to anything positive.”

“He killed like, twenty people before they caught him. So yeah, lets put him in the maybe pile.”

They worked for a while longer in silence, although something about the stories that they had found kept bothering Buffy. Before she could figure out what was off, however, Kendra found another name. “This one is certainly destined for the, well, 'maybe pile'. The Piper of Illmarsh. They never found out his real name. He liked to torment his victims by playing mournful music on his flute. Then he would paralyze them by putting lich dust in their food and letting his pet stirges drain them dry.”

“That is wiggy. Can you imagine that? Being paralyzed, unable to do anything, while you're slowly eaten?”

“Honestly, I'd rather not,” Kendra answered with a shudder.

“Wait a sec,” Buffy said sitting up suddenly. “I thought something about those two sounded familiar. My slayer dream had this nursery rhyme thingee in it that these creepy little girls were singing. I wrote it down... let me see...” Buffy spent a minute digging through her bag of holding until she found her journal. When she had had her slayer dream she had recorded it in full after returning from her trip with Kendra to the cemetery, and she had fortunately been able to copy the rhyme accurately.

“Here we go. 'Put her body on the bed. Take a knife and lop her head.'”

“Well, I'm not sure about the bed part or the knife, but the Lopper did take heads.”

“'Watch the blood come out the pipe. Feeds the stirge, so nice and ripe.'”

“That one is much closer than the Lopper at least.”

“'Drops of red so sparkly bright. Splatters spell her name just right.'”

“Spelling names in blood? I haven't seen anything like that on the prisoner list yet, but someone seems to be spelling something in blood on the monument every few days. Perhaps it's a name?”

“'With a hammer killed his wife. Now he wants to claim your life.'”

“That one is simple, of course, and would seem to support your choice of the Mosswater Marauder.”

“'Tricksy father tells a lie. Listen close or you will die.'”

“Oh!” Kendra said, diving into her pile of records. “I know that one. Father Charlatan. His real name was Sefick Corvin. He travelled around with a group of Sczarni...”

“What-ny?”

“Sczarni. They're a kind of Varisian criminal. Anyway, he pretended to be a priest of various religions in order to sell fake services and cures and such. When he was exposed his accomplices killed a group of city guards while seeking to escape, and he was sent to Harrowstone. I had overlooked it since he hadn't killed anyone directly, but...”

“Yeah, he goes on the list. If we're right we need one more, since it looks like my rhyme had five people in it.” Several minutes later Buffy looked up. “Found that last one. And he was one sick puppy.”

Kendra set her own book down and gave Buffy her full attention. “Who was he?”

“Hean Feramin. He was a scholar until he got all obsess-o about names and death, and he decided to do something about it. He would send someone a message with their name in blood, and then he would kill them in some really complicated way. Usually messy too. It's why he got the name The Splatter Man.”

“Well, we have seen evidence of him at least. And if your rhyme is correct, then we have figured out which prisoners are likely to be a problem, even from beyond the grave.”

“Five problems. Why did I think guarding the Hellmouth was annoying again? I mean, at least I could go Bronzing afterwards...”

“Bronzing?”

Buffy smiled at her friend as they put away books, explaining to her the rituals her friends had come up with to unwind after doing her duty. While she missed them terribly, she no longer felt so pained remembering the good times that they had had together, and so she happily relayed stories of her comrades as they walked back towards Kendra's home. However, she was soon surprised when she heard music ahead. Frowning as they entered the town square she asked, “What's the what?”

“The 'what' is music of course. There is not much to do in a small farming community like this one, so many of the townsfolk like to dance and make music when they can. It may not be 'Bronzing' but Ravengro has its own entertainments.”

The town square was indeed full of townsfolk, with a dozen musicians of varying levels of skill enthusiastically playing instruments or singing from the wooden gazebo at the center of the cobblestoned area. All around the square more than two score people laughed, danced and otherwise made merry with their fellows.

Buffy grinned and grabbed Kendra's arm. “Come on! Lets dance.” The style wasn't the sort that she normally liked, but the last time she had danced had been tainted by the fact that it was being done at the behest of an enthralling vampire, and nothing was going to prevent her from enjoying herself now.

“Um, really, that is not necessary,” Kendra began, trying to pull away from Buffy, who simply ignored her distress. “Really, I'm not overly fond of dancing, I...”

“Look, it doesn't matter if you're any good or not. Look at these people! They're all enjoying themselves, not worrying about looking stupid. Live a little, Kendra. It'll do you a world of good!”

Kendra remained reluctant, but after a few minutes of being swept along by her energetic friend she found herself relaxing and starting to enjoy herself. The dances were basic country affairs, but even more than that the townsfolk were simply interested in having fun rather than following strict forms, so no one commented about the awkwardness of her own movements. She had just begun to really enjoy herself when the screaming started.

Two creatures were flying above the square, their wings beating in sync with the music, their bodies weaving and diving with its rhythms. They were the size of fully grown tomcats, with four black batlike wings each flapping to hold their rusty red bodies aloft. Along their backs were short curly black hairs, and from their heads pale pink proboscises were extended. “What are they?” Buffy asked as she began to push through the crowd.

“Those are stirges,” Kendra replied as she followed her friend. “They usually dwell in the wilderness. They drink blood from large creatures, such as deer, cattle, or well, people. But they never go after large groups, much less enter a town like this!”

“They seem to disagree. Also, giant mosquito bats? Eww.”

Suddenly one of the stirges dove downward, its four wickedly barbed limbs grasping onto a stout farmer before digging its proboscis into his back, sucking blood. The crowd began to panic and flee, the music stopping as instruments were discarded in the terrified rush. For just a moment the still aloft stirge paused in it flight path, until suddenly it moved in a more natural fashion, diving down for its own victim.

Buffy stopped being polite the moment she saw one of the townsfolk being attacked and began simply shoving people aside so that she had the freedom to move. Speeding up she pulled a stake from her sleeve and threw it hard at the airborne stirge, the sharpened wood striking it dead center in its stomach, pinning it like a butterfly in an insect collection. Still flapping its four wings erratically the dying creature hit the ground twitching.

When Buffy finally reached the now weakly struggling victim, she wasted no more time and simply grasped the stirge's proboscis with one hand and its abdomen with the other. She was surprised to discover that it felt almost leathery under her hands despite its somewhat insectile appearance. Putting one foot against the farmer's back Buffy pulled hard, until with a great heave of her superhuman strength she tore the creature from its meal, leaving four barbed legs behind in the man's body as he screamed. Shifting her grip so that both hands held the struggling creature by its long snout she swung the stirge hard onto the cobblestones, bursting it like an overripe tomato, sending its insides and recent red meal splattering across the ground.

Turning around she saw Kendra already applying first aid to the victim, her face white but hands steady. Pulling suplies from her bag of holding Buffy joined her friend, applying bandages to the smaller wounds while Kendra worked on the larger.

“Did you notice the way they moved,” Buffy asked while she worked.

“I was too shocked that they were here to notice much else,” Kendra replied honestly.

“They were following the music better than most of the dancers were.”

“Music and stirges? Like the Piper...”

“Yeah. Lets put him in the 'definitely pile.'”

 

* * *

 

Buffy was more prepared for the early morning wake up when it came the next day, having already experienced it twice before. She didn't even whine to herself too much as she got dressed and grabbed some portable breakfast to eat as she followed Kendra down the dirt road. The sky looked as though it would rain soon, but even so they weren't the only people interested in checking out the memorial.

Everything was the same as it had been on the two previous occasions. Blood spattered the statue and the ground around it, and letters were written in blood across the names engraved at the monument's base. This time there were three letters, 'VES'.

“Given the various oddities that have been occurring of late, I somehow doubt that this replication of the Splatter Man's method is a coincidence,” Kendra said quietly so as to avoid the crowd's notice.

“There are only two things that I don't believe in: coincidences and leprechauns,” Buffy replied in just as low of a tone, before pausing with a disturbed look on her face. “There are no leprechauns in this world, right? Because it is way too early in the morning for there to be.”

“I've never heard of such a creature, although we are most certainly getting away from any salient point. Am I the only one to find it odd that the letters are forming a most unusual name, but one that, in point of fact, is right before us?”

“You're doing that thing again where you make the kind of sense that doesn't.”

“'V'-'E'-'S'. Look, on the monument. The warden's wife.”

“Vesorianna. No, I doubt that's a coincidence at all.”

“But why would the ghost of the Splatter Man be writing the name of a dead woman?”

“I dunno. But I do know one thing.”

“What is that?”

“We need to catch who or whatever is doing this,” Buffy said, gesturing at the monument.

“How?”

“A stakeout.”

**Author's Notes**  
They may be odd and very specific in purpose, but Buffy definitely has picked up some new magical thingamajigs. Things continue apace for her investigation of the events of Haunting of Harrowstone, and obviously I continue to use that as a reference, including once again using the rope skipping rhyme from that book.

For those who have a copy of that adventure, she avoided the monsters in the tomb because she was too quiet for the to notice without a light.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**Flashpoint**

 

Buffy had 'discovered' two more constellations for herself as she spent endless watches of the night guarding the monument. The new additions to her own personal astronomy were Mr. Gordo the First, a round blob of stars named for her stuffed animal, and Mr. Gordo the Second, a rectangle of stars with four projections below it, named for her horse. Over the previous three nights she had spent a great many hours staring at the stars.

Buffy had wrestled with the question of whether to deal with whatever was defacing the Harrowstone Memorial first or to simply go to the prison itself, but in the end she had decided to stop the vandal. She wasn't sure how, but she suspected it was important, and she wasn't terribly eager to visit a haunted prison full of the sadistic ghosts of serial murderers. Her past experiences with ghosts included far too many possessions of herself, and this time there was no Xander around to get the funny syphilis. One thing being on Golarion had driven home to her was the value of having good intelligence about her enemies, something that she had already known but had never really appreciated when Giles could simply fill her in on anything. It had also taught her the value of caution, as she had no backup if rushing in caused things to go sideways. Since she didn't know what was going on with the monument, she decided that dealing with it instead of charging ahead was the smarter play, and so she maintained her vigil rather than giving into her growing sense of impatience.

Kendra kept up her work on sending Buffy home during the day, but at night she insisted on helping, and the fact that whatever was happening was probably responsible for her father's death kept Buffy from providing much objection. In the end, Buffy had secured a promise of following her orders, and accepted the help instead of fighting a losing battle. Her long ago attempts to exclude Xander, however much it might have been intended for his own good, had shown her how useless fighting Kendra would be.

Her friend's help usually didn't extend more than a couple of hours, however, although she refused to leave. That night, as it was around midnight, Kendra had already passed out under a tree, a line of drool trickling from her mouth as she quietly snored. Buffy shook her head as she looked back up at the celestial firmament. Kendra was a good friend, and she was already proving stubborn enough to be a Scooby.

Just as she was beginning to lightly doze herself she was pulled awake by a faint tickle from her spidey-sense. Her time away from the overwhelming aura of the Hellmouth had helped to refine the ability, and she focused on it as she kept her ears open for whatever was coming. She didn't have to wait long as she heard heavy footsteps slowly make their way along the riverbank towards the monument. Slowly standing, Buffy concentrated on her bracers, pulling shadows around herself to provide cover as she waited.

The man approaching was familiar to Buffy. He was an older man with thick muttonchops, dressed in a long white nightgown and sleeping cap stained with blood and carrying a waterskin and a large razor blade. She didn't know his name, but she recognized him as the man who had led the rabble that had tried to disrupt Petros' funeral until she had hit him in the head with a rock. As he approached she could feel the faint tingle that indicated that he had something supernatural about him, however, and when he was close enough she could see that his eyes were rolled back in his head, leaving only the whites visible.

Buffy waited silently as the man approached the memorial, dipping his hand in the waterskin and pulling it out soaked in blood. While he was engrossed in his task, she stood and stalked around behind him, walking closer until she could see what he was writing. She knew it was dangerous to let him do whatever he intended, but at the same time adding an additional letter would all but assure her that he was writing Vesorianna's name. It didn't take him long to complete his task, drawing the fourth letter rendering his activities that night as 'VESO', confirming what Kendra had first suspected. As he began to splash the rest of his blood around Buffy finally called attention to herself. “Why do I never just meet punk kids doing graffiti?”

The man spun around, snarling, before roaring in an unnaturally deep and powerful voice. “You shall not prevent our escape! The woman will die again!” Without pause he charged forward, swinging his razor at Buffy viciously.

The shout woke Kendra up, and as she scrambled to get to her feet to get a better idea of what was happening she took her eyes off of the battle for a brief moment. It was all the time Buffy needed, as she simply sidestepped the man and threw a precise hook to his jaw with carefully moderated force that knocked him to the ground, unconscious. When Kendra returned her attention to the battlefield she was shocked to see that the confrontation was already finished.

“It's over?” Kendra asked as she jogged to Buffy's side.

“Yup,” Buffy answered, looking down at the man. “He was possessed, but still just an old man.”

“That's Gibs Hephenus! You are saying that he was possessed?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Hmm. Perhaps Father Grimburrow could free him from his possession, or keep him from being taken again.”

Buffy nodded and bent down, picking up the heavy man as though he weighed no more than a house cat, and the two headed quickly to the temple. Despite being so late at night it had acolytes on duty waiting for any problems, and soon Father Grimburrow had been summoned.

“What is the problem so late, children?” he asked as he eyed the two women and their cargo.

“Father,” Kendra began. “We caught Gibs defacing the monument.”

“He was the one writing bloody letters upon it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Do you know why?”

“He was possessed,” Buffy interjected.

Father Grimburrow looked at her appraisingly. “You are certain?”

“Oh yeah. White eyes, weird deep voice, sense of creepy evil. Totally possessed.”

“Then we shall keep him here, although we will need to summon Sheriff Caeller.”

Sheriff Caeller was a middle aged man with dark hair, a prominent nose and severe features. He was dressed in a heavy leather greatcoat and had a wide brimmed leather hat covering his unruly hair. “What's the situation here, then?” he asked when he arrived, his keen eyes sizing up the proceedings.

Kendra filled him in on what had happened, and after he had heard everything he looked at Buffy appraisingly. “You took him down yourself?”

Buffy set her chin defiantly. “Yes.”

“What do you do then? I know you were here for the professor's funeral, but I don't know anythin' else about you.”

“I'm a professional monster hunter,” Buffy answered simply, her eyes hard as her gaze bored into his. Eventually he nodded.

“A professional, you say? Good. I've been getting a great many unpleasant reports of late. We may have use for your services before this is all done.” With those final words the sheriff tipped his hat to the women and left the temple. Several acolytes picked up the still unconscious Gibs and took him to a secure room while Kendra said her goodbyes to Father Grimburrow.

After staying up most of the night dealing with Gibs, and all of the previous nights sleeping poorly lying in wait for him, both Buffy and Kendra slept in late the next day. Rested but lazy, they decided to go out for lunch instead of cooking it (or more accurately, Buffy struggle to help while Kendra cooked it).

The Laughing Demon was much the same as it had been the last time Buffy had visited it, although this time a group of workers sat at a table together loudly playing a card game. While Buffy was unfamiliar with the game, she did recognize the cards as a Harrow deck, a large and elaborately painted set that resembled a Tarot deck more than anything she was used to playing with. When Zokar glanced up from his place at the bar he greeted them cheerfully. “Kendra, Buffy! You're being the talk of the town this day.”

“What do you mean, Zokar? What are people saying about us?” Kendra asked, her brow wrinkled with concern.

“Nothin' too bad, I asure ya. No, what they have been goin' on about is the way that you caught Ol' Gibs this morn. Between what e'er he was up to, an' all the other bad business that has been goin' on hereabouts, folk are gettin' mighty scared. They're plannin' on holdin' a town meetin' this eve to discuss matters. You two should attend.”

“Yes,” Kendra said after glancing at Buffy. “Perhaps that would be for the best. We are hoping to do something about these incidents ourselves, and if the town is worried we should reassure them before anything untoward happens.”

“Aye, that does me good to hear, and no mistake. Now then, ladies, what can I do you for? We've got a fresh batch of corpse chowder a simmerin' away over the fire, as well as some nice fresh ghoul cakes, if you'd like?”

Buffy shrugged. “Sounds awful. I'll take both.”

Corpse chowder was a thick red stew with chunks of meat floating in it. To her surprise it was a spicy, piquant dish, and she ended up ordering seconds. Ghoul cakes were small dense pastries that were grayish purple in color with round purple berries cooked into them, giving it a sweet, tart kick that she enjoyed.

“Do you really think we can stop whatever is going on?” Kendra asked quietly while Buffy enjoyed her cakes.

“Of course. You're new to the whole world savage business, so just trust me on this. Things might seem bad, but this? This is nothing. My friend's and I stopped like, tons of apocalypses... apocalypsi... whatever. We stopped way worse things than this so many times. Sure, I'm not looking forward to fighting ghosts, but I've done it before.”

“But you had your friends with you then. All you have now is me.”

Buffy smiled reassuringly at her. “I know. But you're my friend now, and you know magic and stuff. When my other friends started out they were just kids. They hadn't ever fought evil before, and had no idea what it costs. But you saw your dad doing it, and you know magic. Trust me, you'll be a big help.”

“Thank you,” she said, eating again, looking more relaxed.

“What are you going to do when this is over?”

“I'm not certain. I am torn somewhat between staying here for the rest of my life and selling the house and seeing the world. I lived in Lepidstadt for most of my early years, but I've been here in Ravengro ever since. I want to go out and do something with my life, not just spend it with the company of books.”

“You want my philosophy? Life is short. You want to see the world? See the world. When this prison stuff is all wrapped up, bow and all? I'll show you the ropes.”

“Thank you. And I won't fail you, either. I will help with this spectral menace, and I will finish finding you a method of returning you to your home.”

After that the two lapsed into a companionable silence for a time until something about the atmosphere of the room changed, making Buffy sit up and take notice. The faintest tingling began at the base of her spine, and she knew that something was wrong. Supernatural forces once more gathered in her presence to cause troubles for the people of Ravengro.

Buffy jumped slightly and looked across the room when a voice shouted in victory. One of the card players laid a winning hand on the table, the others groaning good naturally as he crowed his triumph. Before he could collect his winnings, however, the cards exploded into flames, so bright Buffy found herself blinded. All around the room she could hear the sounds of panicking townsfolk staggering to their feet and the scent of smoke filled the air.

As Buffy blinked rapidly trying to restore her vision she froze as a new sound assaulted her sharp hearing. From below her feet she could faintly here voices screaming in torment as though the basement of the tavern was filled with men being burned alive. When her vision finally cleared, the screams faded away as well. Looking at the card players, she saw them all standing around, panicked, but the table was no longer on fire.

Buffy and Kendra approached the players as the townsfolk began to calm down. Looking at the table Buffy saw that the top card was a face card marked as 'The Uprising'. Painted on it was a mob of angry peasants marching through a field of flames. Nothing was burnt or singed in anyway, but the scent of smoke hung heavy in the air around the table. Looking at Kendra Buffy smiled brightly. “So, what time is this town meeting?”

 

* * *

 

The meeting was that evening after sunset, so that the farmers could finish their work and attend if they desired. Buffy spent the afternoon practicing her martial arts, both unarmed and with all of the weapons that she had acquired during her stay in preparation for their trip to Harrowstone, which was now set for the next morning. They had also stopped by a store in town to pick up a short bow, since the arrows she had retrieved from the cache in the crypt wouldn't work with Buffy's preferred crossbow. The weapon was easy to use, and with her slayer abilities the fact that she had never fired a bow before didn't stop her from quickly mastering the basics of the weapon, striking bullseye after bullseye into an improvised target. She would need that skill, since the magic arrows were only usable once before they lost their enchantment, which meant that she would need to use them sparingly and not miss.

Eventually the time for the meeting came, so Buffy and Kendra headed out to the town hall. They walked quietly, until Buffy paused as she felt something off. Looking around she saw a man slumped in an alley. Kendra followed her gaze and asked, “What's the matter with him? Is he intoxicated?” Observing him for a moment she began to walk towards him.

“Wait!” Buffy shouted, pushing past her friend as the man on the ground surged to his feet, revealing his true state. While prone he had appeared to simply be semiconscious, but standing it was obvious that he was in fact deceased. His throat had been torn out, and he was somewhat rotten, the stench washing over them as the zombie moved.

“Ugh,” Kendra choked, staggering backwards and covering her nose and mouth as she turned green. Buffy simply reached into her bag and pulled out a throwing axe, removing its safety cover before throwing it at the shambling figure. Her aim was true, the hafted weapon sinking deeply into the head with terrific force, splattering rotting brains and black blood along the walls of the nearby buildings and sending the undead creature to the ground.

Buffy casually strolled over to it and placed her foot on its chest, grabbing the axe and pulling it out with a sickening tearing sound. Shaking her weapon clean she calmly walked back over to Kendra as she pulled out a handkerchief to clean the blade. “Zombie,” Buffy said, shrugging at the blank look she received as she nonchalantly continued on towards the meeting. Kendra hesitated for a moment before hurrying to catch up.

The town hall was a large stone structure which consisted of a single meeting room and a few associated offices and record chambers. The meeting room was lit by a selection of oil lamps and had benches for seating facing a raised stage area. The walls were covered with simple but well maintained tapestries showing pastoral scenes, religious imagery, and the history of Ravengro. The room was packed with more than sixty citizens sitting in the rows, with all four members of the town council and the sheriff sitting on the stage.

As Buffy and Kendra claimed seats they took a moment to get a feel for the room. The atmosphere was far from encouraging. Most of the townsfolk were obviously scared, and many seemed to be on the verge of panic, with the conversations spreading rumors and gossip that seemed to increase everyone's worry.

“Order, order!” Councilman Muricar, an older man who had attended Petros' funeral, called out to the crowd until finally they quieted. “We have called this meeting because of extraordinary events that have been troubling our community of late. We will begin with a report from Sheriff Caeller. Sheriff?”

“Ladies and gentleman,” the sheriff began in a strong voice. “On the last eve the man responsible for defacing the Harrowstone Monument was apprehended by Kendra Lorrimor and her guest, Buffy Summers.” The hall buzzed with the news for a few moments before he continued speaking. “Father Grimburrrow has confirmed that he was possessed while committing his crimes, but he feels he should be able to keep him protected at the temple.”

“The situation is improving,” Councilman Hearthmount told the room. “With one source of danger dealt with, the situation will soon be resolved completely. There is no need for concern...”

He was cut off by a man from the crowd. “No need for concern? My son's dog came back from the dead and tried to get into our house and kill us two nights past!”

“I went to my neighbor's when the time for the meeting came 'round, but they were missing,” a woman shouted.

“My neighbors were missing as well, food on the table untouched! Somethin' took 'em!” a man said, his voice panicked.

“As I said,” the elderly council member called in a louder voice. “The matter has not been fully resolved, but we have made a firm start. If you have any concerns, feel free to voice them.”

One after another various members of the crowd stood and told stories about various issues, mostly strange hallucinations, particularly of fire or blood, although several people said that zombies or skeletons had come to their homes in the night, or were seen wandering the streets. As tale after tale was related, the townsfolk became more and more panicked, until the atmosphere was a powder keg ready to explode.

Buffy stiffened slightly as she felt a cold power seep into the room. It had the same flavor as she had felt during all of the recent incidences, but was far greater in scope. The power was thick and malevolent, pouring over the building and influencing the crowd, making them even more nervous. Before she could say anything to calm them down or point out the danger, the power struck.

Five of the oil lamps scattered around the chamber suddenly flared up for a moment before exploding, burning oil spraying in every direction. The crowd screamed and began to panic as fire spread outward, the wooden building swiftly catching alight under the intense heat of the flaming oil. Near Buffy a man shrieked as his clothing caught on fire, staggering about as the blaze spread.

Buffy wasted no time and simply ripped a tapestry off of the wall, wrapping it around the burning man as she dragged him away from the spreading fire, extinguishing him but leaving him unconscious from the pain of his many burns. Looking at the crowd she saw that they were panicked, pushing against each other and unable to make a clean escape because of it. Placing her fingers in her mouth, Buffy whistled piercingly.

“Everyone, stop panicking!” She shouted at the top of her lungs. “You can all get out if you stop pushing each other! Form a line and move! You, take this guy, he's unconscious. Move!”

The panicked crowd was grateful for direction, swiftly obeying Buffy's orders and evacuating more smoothly. Looking around she saw one of the council members, the sheriff, and Kendra were all helping burned people out of the building. The fire was spreading rapidly and was nearly completely out of control, but the people were now making their escape and would be able to make it to safety.

Before Buffy could join the line of evacuees, the south facing window exploded inward, allowing two human skulls wreathed in fire to fly into the room in a shower of broken glass. Silent save for the crackle of flame and the rattle of teeth the two dove toward the crowd, provoking new screams.

The slayer had not been idle, however, and had already pulled a small but heavy flanged mace from her bag of holding. Moving in front of the crowd she gripped the mace like a baseball bat and swung at the closer skull as it approached. With a great crack the skull shattered into shards of broken bone, the pieces flying across the room and embedding in the walls and floor. The other skull followed swiftly after the first, diving at Buffy in the expectation that her powerful strike had moved her out of position. She did not survive so many fights by foolishly overcommitting, however, and so she easily reversed her swing into a powerful backhand that broke the remaining skull, destroying it as thoroughly as she had the first.

The threat slain, Buffy grabbed a man who had collapsed from the heat and smoke, lifting him over her shoulder like a sack of flour and followed the crowd out of the building, coughing all the while. Placing her burden on the ground once she had made it to safety, Buffy did a quick headcount and was relieved that everyone had made it out. Catching her breath on the clean, cool night air, she walked slowly over to where Kendra stood with Councilman Hearthmount.

“This trouble is beyond anything we are prepared for,” the council member said in a voice made hoarse by smoke as he examined the soot covered slayer. “Can you stop whatever is causing this madness?”

“Yes,” Buffy answered simply, meeting his eyes with a steely gaze.

He studied her for a long moment, before finally nodding. “Then do so. I will hire you to stop this evil. If you put an end to the threat, I will pay you five hundred gold. Is that acceptable?”

Buffy nodded. She would happily do it without being payed, but she knew the Ustalavic mindset about heroes, and so she was happy to put his mind at ease by simply being a professional doing a job. The fact that being payed to slay kept her in new clothing, shiny weapons, and from having to get a day job were beside the point entirely. “Don't worry. I've faced far worse. I will save this town.”

A number of people were within earshot when she made this announcement, and a spontaneous cheer erupted, which spread as the crowd passed the word that she had been hired to solve the problem. She hung around for over an hour after that, helping to reassure the townsfolk and to provide care for the wounded, before finally everyone returned to their homes.

 

* * *

 

Buffy was exhausted when she reached her bedchamber that night, and she was prepared to just lay down and fall asleep until late morning. She closed the door to her room and had begun to prepare for sleep when she glanced out the window and froze in shock. In place of the shutters she had expected see were wrought iron bars. Looking around the room Buffy saw that her bed had been replaced with a moldy pile of straw sitting on on hard stone where once there was a thick rug. The only other thing in the room was a heavily reinforced iron door that made up the only exit through the now rough stone walls.

Buffy walked over to the window and looked out. Instead of the road she had been expecting she saw that her window now looked out onto a misty hill, with a small beacon of lights in the distance that was the right size to be Ravengro.

Moving to the door, Buffy tried to open it but found that it was locked. Stepping back she kicked it hard, but it barely rattled. Frowning in confusion she kicked again, this time holding nothing back, but it didn't even budge. “Kendra!” she shouted, pounding on the door. Placing her ear against it she listened carefully but could hear nothing. “Kendra!”

Buffy turned and headed to the window, barely noticing that it had taken fewer steps than it should have. Gripping the bars she pulled with all of her supernatural might. The iron should have easily deformed under the pressures she exerted, but instead nothing happened. Turning to look around the room she gasped as she saw that the chamber, which had once been spacious, was now tiny. She took the small number of steps required and began banging on the door again. Normally she was calm and collected during danger, but as the walls seemed to press closer and closer her breathing began to accelerate. “Kendra! Kendra!! Help! Help!!!”

Buffy looked around wildly as the walls pressed tighter and tighter around her, confining her in a tiny space. Like a coffin. Like _her_ coffin. She couldn't breath. If there was room, she could breath. Why couldn't she breath!

Her panicking eyes rolled about, looking for some exit, until she saw it. On the wall letters of blood slowly formed, dripping downward as they spelled out a name. Her name. Buffy Summers.

With a gasp Buffy sat up in bed, her panicked breathing slowing as she realized she wasn't in a tiny, coffin-like cell. She was in her room at the Lorrimor household, and she was lying on a soft feather mattress. Just as she calmed down she looked up and saw it.

Written on the wall, even though she was wide awake, were bloody letters spelling her name.

**Author's Notes**  
This is continuing the Haunting of Harrowstone. The line of dialog shouted by the possessed Gib's is straight from the book. For those of you interested in such things, he should actually have taken some effort to knock out (he has several warrior levels and a good bit of HP), but honestly, he's an old man armed with a razor fighting a highly experienced slayer. I ended that fight quickly because it felt better in the scene, but if you are the type who insists on game mechanics, assume she feinted (allowing a sneak attack) and scored a critical hit. That would be enough to easily get a KO.

I played up the Vision of Imprisonment scene a bit. It was supposed to be terrifying, and Buffy doesn't scare easily, but after her experience in the coffin I've always thought she should be at least a little claustrophobic, so I played up that angle.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**Into the Prison**

 

The wall surrounding the prison was made of the same plain gray stone that was used to construct the town. It stood ten feet thick and twenty feet high, although it was partially collapsed where a lake had developed along the eastern side of the grounds. Past the wall the prison itself was visible, a two story affair with a tile roof that brooded on the hilltop south of the town. A somewhat overgrown trail had led from the southern end of Ravengro around the hill and to sagging wood and metal gates, which now hung open uselessly, creaking softly in the gentle breeze.

To Buffy's senses, the building had an ominous feeling, as though it were saturated in evil supernatural energies, the power of its malevolence rendering her spidey-sense nearly useless with its interference. Even beyond that, however, her view of the prison had bothered her from the moment she first laid eyes upon it as they had climbed the path to its gates. She had seen it before. Harrowstone prison was the shadowed silhouette from her slayer dream.

Buffy had been unable to return to sleep that morning after her nightmare, and so she had been able to clean her bloody name off of the wall before her friend had arisen. Afterwards she had gone outside and slowly worked through all of her tai chi forms, the soothing practice allowing her to center herself for the no doubt trying day ahead. The serenity she brought back with her had calmed Kendra down significantly as they had shared a light breakfast, and after placing wrapped meals and waterskins in her bag of holding they had set out to face the source of the troubles plaguing Ravengro.

Buffy stepped through the gates first, but as she did so she froze, as a rush of claustrophobia swept through her and her skin burned. For a long moment she felt as though she was trapped in her coffin, and yet was also somehow on fire from Annika's magics once again. Then, as swiftly as she had felt them, the sensations departed, leaving her unharmed.

“Buffy?” Kendra asked, concerned.

“I'm fine,” she answered brusquely, leading the way once more.

The gargoyle decorated prison was covered in ivy, and it had several large balconies, one on either side of the building that ran its entire length, as well as a small one above the entrance doors which sagged, nearly collapsed. The right balcony was partially collapsed as well as it fell into the large pond which extended past the collapsed outer wall. In all, the building showed every one of the fifty years that had passed since its basement level burned, the rot and dilapidation obvious.

Buffy strolled past the small house in the front yard that had once served as the home for the warden and his wife, now barely standing. The front doors of the prison hung askew, revealing a dark hallway within. As Buffy stood near the entrance taking in the large building, Kendra suddenly walked to the foundation and knelt, pushing aside the vines.

“What is it,” Buffy asked, walking up behind her. Sinuous runes were etched into the stone and stained with blood, although Buffy could tell it was fairly old.

“They are mystic runes in Varisian,” Kendra answered distantly, slowly moving along the length of the wall to look at the markings. “They include a number of magical incantations, as well as the name Lyvar Hawkran writ over and over again.”

“That's the Warden, right?”

“Yes. Warden Hawkran died keeping the prisoners from escaping. From what I can tell some form of abjuration and necromantic ritual was performed recently at this site, one directed at the warden.”

“Why would someone do that?”

“I do not know. I am unable to discern the nature of the magics employed here, other than in the most broad strokes. But I would suppose that such a ritual would be employed to affect the Warden if he was haunting this place, although why after it was performed we would be troubled by ghostly inmates I know not.”

“Well, we won't find out hanging 'round out here. Come on.” Kendra stood and smiled at her friend, examining her crossbow one last time before slinging it over her shoulder. Buffy had convinced her to bring the weapon, and a few daggers as well, but she still insisted on wearing a dark red floor length dress despite the danger, although she had added a belt covered in pouches to her ensemble. Buffy pulled out a silver bladed short sword and one of the foot long gold tipped sun rods from her bag of holding. With a smooth motion she struck the end of the rod against her sword, causing it to light with a steady golden glow, and Buffy held it up above her head with her left hand as she led the way into the prison.

The entrance foyer was a foul place, with walls streaked with mold and a floor carpeted with gray fungi. The room was square, with five sets of solid oak doors, three of which, including the one they had passed through, were double doors. “Any preference?” Buffy asked in a hushed voice, the creepy silence of the abandoned prison discouraging her from speaking loudly.

“Not really,” Kendra answered just as softly. “Perhaps we should press straight on?”

“Alrighty,” Buffy answered, crossing the floor with Kendra behind her until she reached the double doors across from the entrance. Turning its handle she pushed the sturdy door open, only for it to suddenly pull out of her hand, slamming open with a loud boom. Simultaneously all of the other doors slammed open as well, and from each doorway spectral faces, ravaged by fire, shrieked and gibbered at them madly for a moment before slamming the doors closed once more. All was silent.

“That was... bracing,” Kendra said, clearly rattled.

“Well, on the bright side, that would keep out door to door salesmen,” Buffy said, her voice forcefully cheerful.

“I think the inconvenience would outweigh the advantages,” Kendra answered dryly, relaxing slightly with the banter.

“I dunno. If I had that when social services came 'round, I would have been a much happier Buffy,” she said, smiling at her friend, who simply looked confused at the reference. With a shrug, she tried the door again, only to find it stuck closed even when she used her slayer strength. “So, the door won't open. I'm thinking its a haunt. They should be all over a place like this, being all with the spooky.”

“Yes,” Kendra agreed. “A slamming portal haunt I should think.”

Buffy dug into her bag of holding and pulled out a haunt siphon. Before she could use it, however, Kendra interrupted her. “Wait. We only have four of those, and there is a better way of dealing with this. All haunts have a method for permanently ending them, and many are unique. However, this is a very common varient, and it should only require the proper application of a small quantity of holy water to finish this off for good.” Kendra dug into a pouch she had attached to her belt and pulled out a small vial, splashing it on the door. An eerie moan echoed around the room, until with a creak all of the doors visibly aged before their eyes until they hung loose on their hinges. “That did it. With the haunt exorcised, the doors are now no longer being held up with their power, and so they are now returned to their proper state.”

“How did you know that?” Buffy asked. “You've done nothing but study the Psychotic Script...”

“Pnakotic Manuscripts,” Kendra interjected.

“...and I'm the one that spent days being all research-girl about ghost-y stuff. How did you know that?”

“Well, when father passed, I knew that his death could have some connection to the undead that haunt this place, and so I spent nearly two weeks absorbing everything contained within his library on the subject.”

“Oh. Well, I knew it was a haunt!”

Kendra just smirked at her and gestured for Buffy to continue, to which the slayer rolled her eyes as she opened the decrepit door. The hallway beyond was much the same as the foyer, overgrown with fungal growth and stinking of damp rot. Single doors at each end of the hallway were on the left, and a pair of sets of double doors were on the right, with double doors sagging at the end of the hallway as well. The first set of double doors to their right were broken, revealing rubble blocking a staircase leading down, no doubt the result of the deadfall the Warden had used to prevent the rioting prisoners from escaping. After checking the rubble and ensuring that it was indeed impassible, Buffy decided on a whim to push open the single door across from the blocked stairs, the rotting wood crumbling under her touch, sending the door to the ground with a bang.

Beyond was another hallway with two halls leading from it to the right. Looking down the first right corridor revealed a doorway to their right that had already collapsed, letting them see into a room that appeared to be a chapel, although it as so thickly enshrouded with rope-like cobwebs that it was difficult to make out any details. As they stood in the doorway looking into the room, sudden movement caused Buffy to bring up her sword.

Scuttling forward with great speed were three enormous spiders, each the size of a large dog, with hairy black bodies and long fangs dripping with viscous poisons. Stepping in front of Kendra Buffy raised her short sword as the lead spider jump through the air, thrusting the weapon to meet its hungry leap, green viscera splashing onto her arm as it convulsed on her blade, fully spitted. Unable to clear her sword in time Buffy simply kicked the second hard, cracking its chitinous body and breaking off one of its forelegs as she punted it like a football.

The third spider skittered up the wall beside of her, seeking to take advantage of her distraction to bite her from her flank, but she simply dropped her sword and pulled a dagger from her belt, tossing it with enough force to pierce the monster through its head and pin it to the stone wall. Turning to look at the one she had kicked away, Buffy hung back and watched as a chanting Kendra made a cupping motion with her right hand, before tossing a small droplet of green that grew in the air as it flew impossibly straight to strike the injured spider, revealing that the now snowball sized drop of fluid was a powerful acid as it burned away the face of the spider, causing it to die in agony, thrashing its remaining legs against the stone floor with a sound like an insane drummer.

Buffy said nothing but simply picked up he sword, pushing the dead spider off of the blade with her foot, before retrieving her dagger from its resting place in the stone wall. Looking around to ensure nothing else would jump out at them, she finally turned to Kendra. “Good job, finishing that one off.”

“Thank you. That was a simple cantrip, but sufficient for the task. I may not be a powerful wizard, but I will do my best with the powers that I have.”

“That's all you can ask. I don't know about you, but I'm not going in their without a really good reason. I mean, even if that's all of the spiders, we'd still be covered in webs. Just no.”

“I quite agree,” Kendra said, shuddering as they looked through the doorway at the room full of webbing. “Not even a ghost would wish to dwell in such a place.”

Turning around they walked across the hallway and pushed open the door opposite the webbed chapel. The room beyond was a shambles of rotting benches and rusting lengths of chain. Stepping inside the two tensed once more as feelings of shame and anger swept over them, lingering in the very stones of the prison. A sourceless sobbing filled their ears, and feelings of complete hopelessness struck them as they felt for just a moment the sensation of manacles closing around their wrists. As they reeled from the emotional onslaught a heavy, rusty pair of manacles rose from the ground, clinking ominously as they suddenly flew at Buffy.

The slayer wasted no time as she pushed past the disturbing feelings to examine the sturdy object approaching her. Dropping her blade to the ground she pulled a tough steel hand axe from her bag of holding, shucking its protective cover off with flick of her wrist as the manacles shot towards her. Bringing the axe down hard she sent the cuffs crashing to the floor in a shower of sparks. As they began to rattle once more she brought her weapon down once, then twice more, until final the manacles shattered and lay still. “Was that another haunt?” Buffy asked.

“Maybe,” Kendra answered dubiously. “Even if it is, it was a minor one. Let us just proceed.”

Putting away her axe Buffy retrieved her silver bladed short sword and led the way down the hall to the next door. Pushing it open she saw that it was a filthy privy. Wrinkling her nose in distaste she quickly moved on to the next door. Inside were a set of washboards, iron tubs, and metal buckets interspersed with piles of moldy clothing. It took her a minute to realize that the chamber was in fact a primitive laundry room, the rotting clothing being the black and white striped prison uniforms that she had only seen in cartoons before.

Buffy started to turn to move on to the next room when she saw something moving. Looking closer, she saw that under the cloth an object the size of a small animal was silently shifting about, as though struggling to escape from the pile of clothing. Sheathing her sword at her belt, she pulling her long spear from her bag, a process that looked comical as the weapon was longer than she was tall. Preparing herself, she slowly probed the pile of clothes, ready for anything that might emerge.

What came out of the pile was a heavy leather straightjacket, its buckles made of thick iron as it was designed to contain even the strongest prisoner and render them helpless. It moved with shocking alacrity, open to enwrap its victim to bind and squeeze the life from them. Buffy was the slayer, however, and for however fast the haunted straightjacket was, it had nothing on her reaction time. Before it had moved more than a foot from the mound of cloth, Buffy thrust the spear one handed, the heavy steel tip imbedding in its center and pinning it to the far wall.

The two watched fascinated for a moment as the straightjacket struggled and bucked as it sought to free itself. Finally, Kendra stepped beside Buffy and began chanting in a language the slayer could not understand, before once more throwing a growing drop of green acid at the animate leather, eating away at it slowly. Three more times she cast the spell, until finally the tattered restraint stopped struggling. Shaking her spear to ensure that it was truly dead, Buffy finally put the long weapon back into her bag.

“That use of the spear was an excellent idea,” Kendra said as they walked further down the hallway.

“Thanks. There isn't much I wouldn't be willing to poke with a ten foot spear.”

“Don't people usually refer to poking things with ten foot poles?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said thoughtfully. “You guys say that too? Huh. My theory? If you can do something with a stick? Your better off doing it with a pointy stick.”

“You frighten me sometimes,” Kendra replied, shaking her head resignedly.

The next door was locked, although it was so rotten that Buffy easily kicked it in, allowing them entrance. Within was a large room with several wooden tables covered in sewing tools and piles of fabric, much of which had fallen to the floor at some point during the intervening decades. Protruding from one pile of cloth was an arm, rotten away to nothing but a skeleton with a few scraps of cloth that may once have been gloves still clinging to it.

When they entered Buffy felt something manifesting with her spidey-senses. Harrowstone was so awash with dark mystic forces that it had been nearly as difficult to sense anything as it had been when near the Hellmouth, the overwhelming darkness occluding supernatural presences. The being rising before them from the nearly hidden body was mystically powerful enough for her to notice anyway, and that made Buffy distinctly wary.

The figure was a beautiful woman who was entirely colored in shades of blue. She had blue hair, blue eyes, blue skin, a lovely though tattered blue dress and accessories, and blue tear stains on her blue cheeks. “Greetings. Are you the new guards that have come to this prison?” she asked as blue wisps of smoke drifted from her mouth.

“Well,” Buffy said after a moment, “we're here in a protective-type capacity.”

“Good,” the ghost replied, her sad voice growing stronger as she focused on the slayer. “What will you be doing to this place?”

“We're going to re-dead the undead,” Buffy said challengingly, her eyes hard. Kendra gulped slightly, gripping her crossbow so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“Good,” the ghost said, relieved. “The inmates are growing unruly as of late, and my husband is no longer here to keep them prisoner.”

“Your husband?”

“Yes. I am Vesorianna Hawkran, the wife of Warden Hawkran. For many years my husband guarded this prison in life and death, but with his absence the Splatter Man seeks to initiate another prison break.”

“Wait,” Buffy said, holding up a hand. “Hold the phone. What happened to the warden?”

“The woman in the cloak took him away.”

“Woman in the cloak?” Buffy asked slowly, remembering her slayer dream.

“Yes. I never saw her face, as she only came at night and she always wore a hooded cloak while she was here. She had several men with her who she had help her carve runes about the foundations of Harrowstone. One night she performed a blood ritual, and I felt as though a terrible wind passed through this prison. Not of the flesh, but of the soul, and it seemed as though it would tear me to pieces. When it was done, my husband was gone.”

“Did you see anyone else recently?” Kendra asked, her eyes pleading. “An older man.”

“Yes,” the ghost said as she examined Kendra for the first time. “He came during several days, and then again the night of the ritual. He attempted to disrupt it, but the woman used some foul magics and slew him. She then used a stone to cave in his face to make it appear to be an accident, rather than murder.”

Kendra sobbed quietly, and Buffy placed a hand comfortingly on her shoulder as she swallowed her own reaction, needing to stay focused. “So all the stuff going on is 'cause the warden is gone?”

“Yes,” Vesorianna said. “My husband kept the other prisoners here. With him gone I have tried my best to do his job, but I have been sorely taxed to do so, and of late I have found myself weakening. Something is draining my power, and with it the others grow more bold.”

“Your name was getting written a letter at a time in blood.”

“I see. Yes, that is probably the cause. The Splatter Man engineered the original riot from solitary confinement with his magics, and now he uses his arts to weaken me. If I am gone, nothing will stop them from sweeping across the countryside, burning Ravengro in vengeance before preying on other towns all across Ustalav. While I feel anger for the people who let me and my husband die, I do not wish that fate to befall them.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“The day of the riots I came to the prison to find out why Lyvar wasn't at supper, only to discover that he was trapped in the lower levels with the prisoners, and that no one would free him. I lowered the elevator to try and get him out, but the remaining guards locked me in this room. When the fires broke out they had forgotten about me, and I died with my husband from the smoke. Ravengro let that happen, but even though they killed us I would not want them to suffer such a fate as the inmates would cause.”

“The people of Ravengro have not forgotten your sacrifice,” Kendra said quietly, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. “They have constructed a memorial to all of the people of Ravengro who died in the fire, including your husband and yourself.”

Vesorianna smiled a small smile at that. “That does me well to hear, but even so, we have more pressing concerns. If you do not stop the threat of the five prisoners, then all of the inmates will break free of this prison. If you can lay them to rest, and then bring me a symbol of my husband's office, I can rid all of Harrowstone of their taint forever.”

“Do you know who the five prisoners are?” Buffy asked. “Or where they are?”

“They are the most notorious prisoners ever held by Harrowstone: the Splatter Man, who leads them, the Lopper, the Mosswater Marauder, Father Charlatan, and the Piper of Illmarsh. I do not know where in the prison they dwell, but all are here, and many more inmates besides.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said, nodding to the ghost. “We'll stop them, and then we'll get something to finish the job.”

“I will be waiting,” Vesorianna said as she drifted over to the window, her translucent form turning the sunlight an eerie blue. “Go back to the entrance hall and take the first right from the main doors. There is a secret storage vault that contains certain items once owned by the five. They may be able to aid you in defeating them, although the connection has left them cursed. You must have a care how you employ what you may find.”

When Buffy and Kendra were safely away from the ghost the blonde looked at her companion. “She was nice.”

Kendra gave her a wary look. “She was a ghost.”

“She was a nice ghost. She didn't even possess us or threaten us or anything. Plus, we were right about the five prisoners. Go research.”

“Should we go after these items? Curses are not something to be taken lightly.”

“Yeah. It might bite us later, but ghosts aren't easy to hurt. I had to stab one once with his own knife to kill him, so I'm thinking we should grab their stuff and see if it'll help.”

They followed the ghost's directions, returning swiftly to the entrance room, where they were confronted with two passages leading from the foyer to the right from the entrance. One was a set of double doors, and the other was a single. After conferring for a moment they chose the single door, as it was the closest to the entrance. Beyond the door was a short hallway with a solid looking metal door at its end. When Buffy tried it she discovered that it was both locked and firmly in place. She took a step back to try and kick it down when Kendra placed a hand on her arm to stop her.

“There's a better way to approach this,” she said, facing the door squarely. In a calm clear voice she spoke a single word which passed through Buffy's mind and found no purchase there. Normally she was bad at remembering strange words, but she guessed that even Giles would have been unable to retain whatever was said. An instant later she heard a tiny clicking sound from the door.

Buffy turned the handle, easily opening the heavily reinforced door. “Nice,” she said, smiling at Kendra as she led the way forward.

Beyond the iron door was a modest room full of wooden shelves of various goods all marked with tiny paper tags indicating who had owned them. Wandering the shelves they couldn't find anything which appeared to belong to the five prisoners that had become the central ghosts, although Buffy did stop when she found a large war razor, an incredibly sharp blade which could flip into its handle like a modern pocket knife, with a beautiful scrimshaw grip showing fish swimming up a waterfall. Opening the blade she was impressed by both its balance and the fact that it was made of silver. “Shiny.”

“Did you find something?” Kendra asked, walking over to look at it.

“Yeah. Nothing about the ghosts. This is going in the ol' collection, though.”

“I couldn't find anything of import myself. She did indicate that it was in a hidden vault, and this isn't anything of the sort.”

“Good point,” Buffy said as she looked around more carefully. Searching the walls she eventually found a hidden latch that caused a shelf to open up like something from a cheap mystery novel. Pulling the hidden door wide open they saw another evidence locker, this one containing only five items. “Jackpot!”

The first item was a hand axe, its edge stained with blood that appeared far too fresh to have spent fifty years in storage, which was marked as belonging to the Lopper. Beside it, indicated to be Father Charlatan's, was a fused together pile holy symbols, few of which Buffy could recognize, although she saw that they represented a dozen different faiths. The next item was a moldy and decrepit book that had been owned by the Splatter Man, which sat next to an old smith's hammer the Mosswater Marauder had used for his murder spree. The final item was a tarnished silver flute that had given the Piper of Illmarsh his name.

“I dunno. For freaky cursed items I was expecting something... more.”

“Most curses are not overly obvious,” Kendra said as she picked up the book, flipping through it curiously. “If they were, most people would be able to avoid them.”

“Or they could be like us,” Buffy answered as she grabbed the other items and tossed them in her bag of holding. “Dumb enough to take the stuff anyway. So, what is it?”

Kendra finished her perusal, beaming at her blonde friend as she closed the volume. “It's a spellbook. The Splatter Man was apparently a wizard, and with time I may be able to gain some insights from this tome.”

“Or, you know, a horrible curse.”

“Or a horrible curse, yes. Has anyone ever told you that you are good at reassuring people? Because if they did, they were better at it than you are.”

Buffy gave her an annoyed look, and the two retraced their steps to the entrance foyer.

“Where to now?” Kendra asked as they looked at their options. They had explored much of the area through the double doors opposite the entrance, and they had been everywhere the single door behind them led. That left the single door opposite them and the double doors next to them. With a shrug Buffy opened the double doors.

The room before them was revealed to be some form of auditorium, with row upon row of barely standing benches facing a raised stage protected by rusty iron bars. Opposite them was another set of double doors, to which they began to walk. Before they could make much progress, however, they felt a chill slowly creep over them. Before they were even halfway across the room their breath was visible in the air.

“What is this?” Buffy asked, shivering uncontrollably.

“I believe this is a cold spot,” Kendra said as she wrapped her arms around herself. “It's a form of haunt.”

Digging into her pack Buffy pulled out a haunt siphon. Grabbing the end, she gave it a sharp twist, and a golden glow filled the air. Green strands of energy flowed from all around them into the end of the siphon, until finally it dimmed, leaving the room warm once more. Looking at the siphon she was surprised to see that the tiny white vortex inside the glass now glowed a steady green.

“Excellent! That drained the haunt of its negative energies and trapped them within the siphon,” Kendra said as she examined the device. “It can only be used the once, but we shouldn't need to worry overmuch about the cold spot now.”

“Cool. Like Ghostbusters.”

“I suppose... whatever you are speaking of. Anyway, be careful with that. The energies it contains are very harmful. If you broke that vial you could hurt any living creature in the immediate area rather badly.”

“Really,” Buffy said, eyeing the siphon thoughtfully before putting back into her bag of holding.

The next room was also large, but was mostly open space with a handful of training dummies indicating what its purpose once had been. The far wall had collapsed, letting in fresh air and providing a view of the dark, murky pond outside. At the center of the room was a jagged hole in the floor surrounded by evidence of the fire that had destroyed the lower level of the prison. Standing at the edge of the hole they could see a large rubble filled room twenty feet below.

“Looks like a way down,” Buffy said thoughtfully.

“Indeed,” Kendra agreed. “However, I think that it would be for the best if we concluded our exploration of the upper levels before descending below.”

Before Buffy could reply she heard a sound behind her and felt a faint tingle over the general malaise being in the prison caused her spidey-senses. Spinning, she saw three skulls slowly lifting off of the ground as they began to burn, transforming into creatures of the same sort that had attacked the meeting the previous evening. Raising her short sword, Buffy moved between them and Kendra, ready to strike.

The first skull blazed toward her like a comet, fire trailing behind it as it flew only to be met by her sword which cleaved it in two causing its flames to sputter and die before the halves even hit the ground behind her. Before the other two could move, one was struck by a beam of whitish golden light that shot from Kendra's pointing index finger and caused the skull to stop burning and simply fall to the ground and lie still. The last circled for a moment, but Buffy moved with it, preventing it from reaching her friend, who was muttering a spell once again. The skull tried to charge once more, only to be struck by an identical beam of light, this one a glancing blow that staggered the skull but didn't slay it. It lasted for only another second, however, as Buffy followed up before it could recover, finishing it with a single slash.

“Nice spell,” Buffy said looking at the one Kendra had taken out on her own.

“Thank you. It was a cantrip that channels positive energies in a manner that causes great harm to the undead.” Looking around the room, for a moment, Kendra finally pointed at a door near the collapsed area. “I suppose if we aren't going to descend immediately, we will have to take that door.”

Before Buffy could reply her stomach rumbled. Blushing she looked out at the sun which was high overhead. “Is it that late already?”

Kendra chuckled and moved over to sit on some rubble near the damaged wall where the breeze kept away the stink of rot that pervaded most of the prison. “I'm not sure how you can be so hungry while surrounded by an army of enraged ghosts in a rotting prison, but I suppose we do need to keep our energies up.”

Buffy shrugged as she pulled two wrapped meals from her bag of holding. “Slaying works up the appetites... so definitely food time.”

**Author's Notes**  
Kendra uses a number of spells here. She used acid splash on a number of occasions, as well as disrupt undead, both of which are cantrips so she can do them as often as she desires. The spell she used to unlock the door was called knock. For the gaming buffs, in the source material Kendra is a level 2 diviner, but having helped deal with the hauntings in town, she is currently level 4.

This was a strange chapter to write, but I'm fairly happy with the outcome. This is the beginning of what is properly the 'dungeon crawl' of the Haunting of Harrowstone. It may be the investigation of a haunted house (prison), but in RPG terms it's still a dungeon crawl, which is very strange to write. I hope it came out alright.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**Once More, With Stirges**

 

Buffy ducked, dived and rolled with every bit of grace and agility her years of training and slayer abilities granted her, concentrating completely on staying away from the tongue of pure fire while still keeping the furnace occupied.

Even dodging, Buffy still shook her head in bewilderment. She was keeping a _furnace_ occupied.

After eating their lunch the two women had opened the door and stepped through it, revealing a room with one wall that had collapsed completely, giving a view of the dark, still lake that they had sat next to for their meal in all of its eerie glory, with the only other features being another door and a large metal furnace. As they had crossed the room Buffy's keen eyes had noticed a soot encrusted copper plaque over the furnace engraved with the words 'Ember Maw'. As she had read the name the furnace had begun to glow with dark red flames, the grate taking the form of a leering skull, its burning eyes locking onto them. With a roar like a jet engine a tongue of red flame suddenly lashed forth from the mouth of the furnace and snaked towards Buffy, who had had to dive into a sideways roll to avoid the strike.

“What is it?!,” Buffy called as she ducked and wove, her movements ensuring that the furnace concentrated on her instead of attempting to hit her far more vulnerable friend.

“A haunt I should think, but a powerful one! Whatever death caused this must have been terrible to have left such a strong impact upon the world!”

Working her way closer Buffy lept high to avoid an attempt to burn her legs while she dug quickly within her bag of holding until she pulled out one of her three remaining haunt siphons. Diving forward until she was close enough to feel uncomfortable from the intense heat she twisted the metal cap on the end of the siphon, filling the air with a golden glow as green energies were pulled from the furnace into the device, making it glow a dull green. The flames dimmed and the metal face of the furnace twisted with a weary pain, until, with another angry bellow, it spewed cinders outward, blinding Buffy. Dodging and twirling on pure instinct she had to give significant ground before she was finally able to clear her tearing eyes enough to begin dodging normally again.

“Keep it busy!” Kendra shouted as she began chanting.

“Keep it busy she says,” Buffy grumbled as she stuffed the siphon back in her bag and began to work her way closer to the furnace once more. After a few moments Kendra finished her spell, her beam of white-gold light striking the face of the furnace and producing another pained roar and dimming the flames slightly. The furnace turned its malevolent gaze upon the wizard, until Buffy growled and picked up a heavy brick, throwing it at the face with a loud bang before it could attack her. “Over here, flame brain!”

Roaring it attacked Buffy once again, only to howl piteously as another beam struck it, this time killing the flames, the skull face reverting into the simple furnace grate it had once been.

“Okay, that was nasty,” Buffy said as she caught her breath. “And what is with the fire? Everywhere I go something tries to make me extra-crispy! Without any herbs and spices even.”

“I think if that happened to me I would take a long look at my life and see what prompts such a response.”

“Hey,” Buffy said with a glare. “Is it pick on Buffy day or something?”

“That would imply a one day thing.” Kendra rolled her eyes when Buffy pouted at her.

“I liked you better when you were polite.”

“I liked it better when we weren't in mortal danger, but we have to do something to keep our spirits up,” Kendra said sharing a smile with her friend, before giving the furnace a serious look. “That was no ordinary haunt. It was powerful enough to survive the haunt siphon, so perhaps it was even one of the five prisoners. I think we should see if we can put it to rest for good.”

“How?”

“We need to figure out what is keeping the spirit responsible for this haunt from resting in peace.” At Buffy's blank expression Kendra elaborated. “We can figure out how to lay it to rest if we use the spirit planchette to communicate with it.”

“You mean the ouija board,” Buffy said as she dug the wooden board and its brass triangle from her bag. Setting them up in front of the furnace the two women sat carefully, eyeing the still hot grate warily as they did so. “How does this work?”

“We place our fingers lightly on the brass planchette, and then we wait for it to become attuned to the spirits here. When it begins to move on its own we can ask questions and we should receive answers from the board. Hopefully, it will be cooperative enough to let us lay it to rest.”

The two sat quietly for several minutes with their fingers resting on the cool brass until finally it began to drift across the board on its own. Swallowing, Buffy began. “Who are you?”

The planchette move briskly across the alphabet spelling out the name 'Benjen Ereska'.

“Hmm,” Kendra said quietly after it had finished. “Well, it isn't one of the five, but at least he is being cooperative. Tell us Benjen, how can we lay you to rest?”

Painstakingly the planchette moved, spelling out the sentence 'place my bones into water'.

“Your bones?” Buffy asked. “Are they in the furnace?”

The planchette pointed to 'yes'.

“You didn't die in the riot did you,” she said, causing Kendra to look at her in surprise.

The planchette pointed to 'no'.

“You mean to say that the guards executed you with the furnace,” Kendra asked, her voice full of horror.

The planchette pointed to 'yes'.

Buffy stood with a determined look on her face, pulling out spare cloth from her bags and wrapping it around her limbs. Taking a deep breath, she climbed into the furnace. She was small enough to fit inside of it, although even so it was a tight fit. Moving slowly with her sun rod clutched in one hand she gritted her teeth against the heat that still lingered in the metal until finally she reached the back where, in a pile of ash, she found a cracked skull and a small pile of broken bones. Sweeping them up she crawled swiftly backwards before standing and tossing them into the lake.

Kendra moved over with her as they watched the hot bones steam as they sank beneath the dark, still water, causing the furnace to groan loudly as the haunt was laid to rest. Kendra pulled out a handkerchief and her drinking water and began to help Buffy clean up. “You look like a chimney sweep.”'

Buffy glared back as she unwrapped her reddened limbs. “Whose idea was it to do that?”

“I never thought that you would simply dive into a furnace.”

Grumbling quietly Buffy led the way to the next chamber through the only other door from the furnace room. It was of moderate size, and was filled with the rusting frames of rotting cots standing like tombstones between trays of medical equipment. Across from them were doors leading to private treatment rooms which barely hung on their frames, and on the left side of the room was a set of double doors through which Buffy could see a hallway.

As they crossed the apparent prison infirmary they felt something in the air, a chilling presence seemingly watching them. Whatever the presence was, however, it did not make itself known, and they were able to push the sagging doors open unmolested.

The hallway beyond was immediately familiar to them, the already open double doors at its end leading to the entrance foyer. Buffy walked to one of the doors that they had never opened, a set of double doors next to the collapsed downward staircase, and opening it revealed stairs leading up.

“Should we take them?” Kendra asked, looking up at the double doors at the top of the steep stone stairs.

“Yeah, we can always do the thorough thing later if we have to, but I don't want to spend all year here. The only thing that'll grow on me about this place is the fungus.”

“Quite a bit of that, so let's minimize our risk and proceed.”

The upper floor was much like the lower, full of mold and fungus, with a rotten musty stench in the air. The hallway they stepped into opened into broad rooms at each end, with the left room having a guard station in it protected by an arc of iron bars, and the right room had a jumble of tables and chairs, obviously having once served as a cafeteria. After a moment of consultation, they walked down the hall to the left, examining the guard post briefly before looking around.

The guard post overlooked the cellblocks of the upper floor, which had once been the equivalent of minimum security. The cells were small square rooms ten feet on a side, with iron bars serving as their front face and narrow iron doors to allow entrance and exit. Within them they could see the skeletons of the former prisoners, filling nearly every cell that they could see.

“They must've died from the smoke,” Buffy said, horror in her voice. “Why didn't anyone try to get them out?”

“They were criminals,” Kendra answered, clearly uncomfortable. “I suppose that the guards didn't believe that they should be rescued.”

“They were people! Just because they were in prison doesn't mean they should be burned in furnaces, and... and just left to die! What else happened here!”

“Probably a great many things. You've said quite a bit about your homeland, and my father shared with me some of what you had told him, but this isn't your California. In Ustalav... life is often lost cheaply, and for little purpose. Few in these cells would have ever seen the light of day again, and most then only to be executed.”

“It's not right. No wonder they're pissed. I'd be pissed.”

“Even if they had cause for revenge, the people living today are innocent of any crime, and are simply convenient targets for their wrath...” Kendra trailed off as she saw Buffy turn pale.

Buffy for the first time in weeks found herself remembering the awful day that she had lost her sister. Her best friend, who had once argued passionately for the rights of undead Chumash to get revenge against the descendants of their oppressors, caring for nothing but vengeance herself, lashing out at 'convenient targets'. “I know. No matter how right your cause, you can't kill innocent people for it.”

Kendra looked confused for a moment, before her eyes widened in understanding. “I'm sorry... I did not mean to remind you...”

“It's okay,” Buffy said giving a smile that more closely resembled a grimace. “I know. Let's just do this thing.”

Buffy walked into the cellblock before Kendra could say anything further, looking at the skeletons around them. As they walked Buffy began to feel an eerie sensation crawling up her spine, her slayer senses twinging strongly as a sourceless dirge began, the music seemingly coming from a beautiful if eerie flute. Buffy began to feel lightheaded as some deep, instinctual fear filled her as a rattling noise echoed throughout the halls as every skeleton simultaneously rose from their piles and began to batter at the doors, seeking escape. All around them the unquiet dead within the closest cells began to reach out through their bars, straining to grab the women as they stood in the center of the hall.

Shaking off the unpleasant feelings that suddenly filled her, Buffy fumbled within her bag as she fruitlessly sought the source of the music. “Another haunt? Probably the Piper.” She paused. “Kendra?” Kendra stood stock still, her eyes glazed as she stared blankly ahead, unmoving. “Kendra!” Her friend did not respond, not even battling an eyelash as she shouted at her.

Buffy pulled a haunt siphon from her bag, frowning as she realized that with this one she would only have a single unused siphon left. Twisting it, the golden glow of the functioning siphon filled the air, thick bands of green energies swiftly pouring into the device, leaving it glowing faintly when it finished it's task. Unfortunately, while the music was slightly fainter, it still continued to steadily play, and Kendra remained entranced, unmoving.

Looking around, Buffy saw three stirges, the four winged black and red creatures flying down the hallway towards them, their long proboscises glistening faintly pink as they came. Looking at the object in her hand, she shrugged and hurled the expended haunt siphon at the group, striking the ceiling just above the central flyer and shattering the fragile glass. With a bright flash of green light the vortex within suddenly bloomed outward in a blast of wind that was felt with the soul rather than the flesh, the faintest chilling sensation passing through Buffy from where she stood some distance from the epicenter.

The stirges, however, were far less lucky. The closest creature simply shriveled like a grape drying on the vine, the glossy red body darkening and becoming dull as it died in mid air, its corpse plummeting to the ground with a splat. The other two were further from the impact, but even they were visibly hurt, staggering in midflap and barely staying aloft as they too withered slightly. However, despite their injuries, the survivors pressed on, their motions in perfect harmony with the flute music filling Buffy's ears.

Reaching into her bag once more Buffy pulled out the tarnished silver flute that she had taken from the evidence locker on the first floor. She had never played a flute before, but unsure how to inflict more harm to the Piper without using up her final haunt siphon, she decided to put it to her lips and play, hoping for the best. The moment the flute reached her mouth she found her fingers moving into position of their own accord, and without any idea how she was doing it she began to play an eerie counterpoint to the disembodied music played by the haunt.

Immediately the music began to have an effect, the skeletons near her moving more erratically in their attempts to attack her, and the stirges seemingly confused as they closed to attack. Sparing a glance down the hallway, Buffy furrowed her brow in concern as four skeletons, apparently having escaped their cells, began to shamble towards her, their bony fingers curled into claws as they approached. Behind them, an enormous, bloated stirge the size of a large dog sailed towards her, only to begin moving drunkenly as it closed.

Before she could act, Buffy felt a sudden prickling pain as blood began to pour from her eyes, ears, and fingertips. Manifesting slowly in midair she saw a spectral skeleton in a hooded cloak wearing a long gray scarf and holding a silver flute identical to her own in its hand. The figure swayed in time with the music, and all around it a flock of stirges, as ephemeral as the Piper, cavorted in elaborately choreographed aerobatics. However, as she continued to play her own flute she saw that the ghostly Piper was slowly fading away, the cellblock beyond becoming easier and easier to see through its body.

When the first of the normal stirges arrived Buffy tried to drop the flute to fight them, but was shocked to discover that she was unable to do so, her body continuing to play no matter what she did to try and stop. When the first dived beak first towards Kendra, Buffy simply sidestepped into its path and kicked hard, her foot meeting it at head height and sending it bouncing off of the ceiling with a broken spine, the cat sized monster twitching uselessly as it hit the ground. Spinning and hopping upwards, she kicked the last one in the side and sent it into the tumbling into the wall, slaying it instantly.

Turning around, Buffy moved between Kendra and the approaching skeletons and the giant stirge, setting her feet into a savate stance to maximize her options for kicking. The first skeleton shattered with a straight kick it its spine, the pieces tumbling to the floor as two more pressed her at once. Unwilling to give ground since Kendra was unable to move, Buffy ducked to her right to avoid one skeleton, twisting her torso so that her left bracer took the raking strike of the other while she delivered an off balance round house kick with her left leg that pulverized her attacker.

Twisting away from the grasping skeleton hands reaching out of the cell she had dodged close to, Buffy smashed one skeleton with a crescent kick, before launching a quick double kick combo at the last one to escape its cell, slaying it before she hopped into the air to meet the erratic dive of the giant stirge. Twisting her torso at the last second Buffy trapped its proboscis under her right arm, twisting around to land with both feet smashing the bloated monster into the ground.

The impact broke the creature's wings, but it was far from defenseless, her position holding its beak preventing her from dodging as its four barbed legs lashed out at her, opening deep gashes in her calves. Before she could finish it she was surprised when the Piper's music suddenly stopped, her own playing transforming from highly skilled to a sudden painful squeak and then nothing as with a final wail the undead inmate simply faded away, destroyed by the music of his own cursed flute.

Dropping the instrument with a grunt of pain as the thrashing stirge continued to gouge at her with all four limbs, Buffy grasped the beak with both hands, and with a powerful flex of her entire body, she tore it from the creature's face, before reversing it and stabbing it through the torso where she guessed its heart to be. Jumping off as it thrashed madly, Buffy panted, her head spinning. Her arms and head were soaked in blood from playing the cursed flute for so long, her entire torso stained red, and her legs bled freely as well from her downed opponent who twitched weakly as it slowly died. All around her the skeletons clattered as they collapsed lifeless once more without the Piper's wrath to animate them.

“Buffy!” Kendra shouted, horrified as she pulled out her medical suplies, overwhelmed by how much her friend had bled while she had been unable to move.

“Don't worry. This looks way worse than it is.”

“Given that you look as though you were bathing it blood, I'm at a bit of a loss as to how it could not look much worse and you still be among the living.” Buffy resisted for only a moment before allowing Kendra to bandage her legs, drinking two of her disgusting, but useful, healing potions as she did so.

“I'm so sorry,” Kendra said quietly as she finished tying the last bandage. “I was useless. The music played, and I couldn't move...”

“Hey!” Buffy interrupted. “Don't worry about it. Ghosts? They do bad stuff. Sometime remind me to tell you about Xander's syphilis.”

“Syphilis? What is that?”

Buffy smirked. “Never mind. The point is, ghosts can do weird stuff, so it's not your fault. It just happens.”

“I will do better next time.” When Buffy nodded, Kendra began again, more hesitantly. “And I'm sorry to have reminded you of what happened. I want the woman who killed my father to pay for what she did. I cannot imagine how it must feel for a friend to be responsible for such a crime.”

“Its not the first time someone I cared about turned on me.”

“What will you do when you get home?”

“I don't know. But some things? Some things can't be forgiven,” Buffy answered, her voice hard.

“No. Some things can't be forgiven. But people who do not let go of anger, even when warranted, generally do not have good ends. There are a thousand stories in Ustalav about someone who sought vengeance, even many against someone who truly deserved it. Those stories never end at all well.”

Buffy said nothing, instead moving to the iron door to a room without the bars that would allow them to see what was within, and simply kicked it open with a full strength stomping kick, knocking the reinforced door out of its frame entirely.

The room beyond the door was several times larger than any of the other cells, but it was a cell all the same. Slumped against the wall, wrapped in chains from which weights marked with holy symbols dangled, was a human skeleton. Walking into the cell, Buffy saw that the room contained nothing besides the body, a rotten bed, and two buckets. “I'm thinking Father Charlatan,” Buffy said as she crouched next to the body, shivering from an oppressive presence in the room that her spidey-sense was blaring warnings about.

“I would say so,” Kendra answered, looking around. “Although I do not see any signs of restless spirits.”

“I feel one,” Buffy said. “But no, not much with the seeing.” Buffy considered for a moment, before shrugging and, after pulling on leather gloves, searched the body. Unfortunately, she found nothing, other than a sensation like someone walking over her grave as she did so. “I'm finding a whole lotta nothin'. He must not be at home.”

Since Kendra had no other ideas they simply left the cell and continued exploring the upper level of the prison, changing sunrods as they did so as the first, which they had started that morning, finally stopped glowing. Despite their thoroughness they found little of interest in the upper level of the prison, as it was simply rows of cellblocks and a small kitchen and cafeteria. Eventually they found the only door which they had not checked, a solid wooden one which was still locked and in fairly good condition. “Do you want me to get kicky or do you want to get it?” Buffy asked once she had tried its handle.

Kendra shrugged and pulled an amulet from under her dress, gripping it for a moment, before she spoke the single, impossible word once more causing the lock to click. Opening it revealed the gray sky of a cloudy late afternoon, as the door opened onto an enormous flat balcony larger than most houses. On the far side of the balcony was a large stone block, and facing it were long wooden benches.

When they moved out onto the stone balcony they saw a large scythe that had been hidden behind the stone slowly float off of the ground, skeletal arms slowly fading into being as they bodilessly held the weapon aloft. “Why is there a scythe here?” Buffy asked, bewildered as she raised her silver short sword once more.

“Harrowstone Prison was notorious for using a scythe rather than an axe for beheadings.”

“Seriously? Why would they...” Buffy's response was cut off as the weapon flew towards her with impressive speed. Skipping back out of range she countered, but the spectral arms wielded the weapon with impressive skill, blocking her probing attacks, her hits sending sparks from the contacts as she fought. Feinting left, Buffy flipped over her opponent before swinging her weapon hard, her attack passing through the arms as though they didn't even exist before cracking the wooden shaft of the weapon.

Unfortunately, just as she seemed to be gaining the upper hand, everything suddenly went wrong. The scythe, despite the damage that she had inflicted upon it, moved as smoothly as ever, and without a body it was able to spin itself in an impossible arc, reacting faster to her having gotten behind it than any living opponent could have. While she was fast and experienced enough to dodge backwards, avoiding most of the hit, the keen edge of the executioner's weapon slashed her belly as she did so.

She had received minor injuries before, and she had expected her new wound to be such, but to her shock she suddenly realized that she must have woefully misjudged her distance, as terrible pain swept through her. Dropping her sword, Buffy reached down as she collapsed to her knees, her hands struggling to hold her insides where they belonged, as the long cut across her stomach threatened to spill her ropy innards across the roof. Looking up in terrified shock at Kendra, Buffy slowly collapsed, her life bleeding out all around her.

Her heart slowed, and she knew, for the fourth time in her life, that she was dying. A single tear trickled down her face. She had failed. The people of Ravengro would die. Kendra was still in danger. She hadn't lived for Dawn. She would never see Xander or Giles again. She would never figure out what had happened between her and Spike. She would never look Willow in the eyes, never get a chance to yell at her, never get a chance to stop hating her...

She would never get to go home...

Everything slowly faded to black...

**Author's Notes**  
Let me just begin with some maniacal laughter. Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Sorry, couldn't help myself. I was planning that cliffhanger since my initial outline for this story.

This chapter continued the dungeon crawl through the prison within the pathfinder module, the Haunting of Harrowstone. The chilling presence in the infirmary was a poltergeist, which only appears if three people enter its room. I thought about having it attack anyway, but the chapter was long enough, and there have been enough little encounters without adding more unnecessarily.

The spirit board and brass planchette do not follow the rules for them provided by Pathfinder – I didn't like them, so I simply made it operate like a cinematic ouija board. I think it was more dramatically appropriate.

Kendra used disrupt undead in this chapter, a cantrip that is truly showing its worth in this situation. She also used her arcane bond amulet to spontaneously cast another knock spell.

This weekend my muse was very kind, and I wrote more than 15000 words, finishing this story. It has sixteen chapters, plus an epilogue and a prologue. While each chapter gets another edit before posting, I'm basically finished, so expect me to have no trouble getting this all online, following my standard monday-friday schedule. I hope you enjoy the rest!


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**Dreams That Came**

 

The first thing that she noticed was that whatever she was lying on was hard. The air smelled strongly of unfinished pine, and everything was dark. Opening her eyes, Buffy saw only darkness, her sharp slayer eyes revealing nothing. Confused, Buffy frowned, her thoughts jumbled. The last thing that she could remember had been fighting the Piper of Illmarsh, and then her and Kendra had gone outside. They had fought a scythe and...

With a gasp Buffy reached upwards with stiff arms, terror filling her as she felt rough wood just above her head. Feeling around, Buffy immediately recognized where she was. She was in a coffin. SHE WAS IN A COFFIN.

Choking back a sob of sheer terror at waking up in her casket once more, Buffy pushed hard at the ceiling, immensely relieved when the top easily slid off, letting daylight and fresh air in. Shoving the wooden lid away, Buffy sat up, gasping, her eyes wild. She had only been awake in the coffin for a few seconds, but the experience wasn't one that improved with repeat exposure.

Taking in the room, Buffy was confused to realize that she was in a church, the large cross behind the altar telling her that it was of the Christian faith. Standing beside the coffin was an older man with receding red hair wearing the black outfit and white collar of a Catholic priest. “Ah, excellent child,” he said, smiling slightly. “It does me good to see you awake now. You were far less lively just a bit ago.”

“What... how?”

“Don't strain yourself, child. You've had quite the nasty little shock to your system, and no mistake. Just calm yourself now. You're safe here.”

Looking down at herself, Buffy frowned when she saw that she was wearing the black funeral dress that she had had tailored for her in a small town in central Ustalav. “Where am I?”

“Lepidstadt. It was the closest town that had priests able to perform a resurrection for you.”

“Resurrection? You... resurrected me?” Buffy was very torn. She had so much she wanted to do, and she no longer wished to die. However, for as long as she would live, she would remember that calm, warm, place that she had been, and she would always crave it on some level. While she had been terrified that she had spontaneously come back from the dead (implying that she would continue doing so, even after she was ready to move on), she now was confused as to why she had been brought back.

“Yes, child. Your friend Ms. Lorrimor was most insistent.”

“Kendra? How... why?”

“Which question, child? If it is the how of it, that is quite simple to answer. While it is a difficult and rare feat, the wisest of priests are sometimes granted the ability to bring back the dead by our gods. It is not something done lightly, but a young warrior who died trying to save our nation? Who better to bring back? And as I said, Ms. Lorrimor was most insistent.”

Buffy frowned. “But why don't I remember it?”

“Remember what?”

“When I was dead before... before someone brought me back last time. I remembered being dead... I don't remember anything this time.”

“Of course not, child! That would be most dangerous. No, we would not be so cruel so as to let you remember that which is beyond mortal men to know! We healed you, not simply tore you from your final fate.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, overwhelmed. She had died again. And she was back. It all felt so strange, like nothing was real. Looking down at her hands Buffy frowned, unable to shake off the feeling that she was simply having a weird dream. “Where's Kendra?”

“It took some months after your accident before Ms. Lorrimor could arrange for you to be brought back. She had to return to Ravengro to take care of some personal business. You can see her when you are well enough to travel.”

With some effort Buffy began to stand, only to pause in confusion as she saw something at the end of her coffin. Leaning closer for a better look, she was surprised to see the fused cluster of holy symbols that they had found in the evidence locker at Harrowstone. Looking up at the priest in confusion, she reeled as her head felt as though it was splitting open. The kindly looking priest suddenly looked translucent, and for a moment she thought she saw something wrapped around him. The room seemed dim and hard to see, and she found herself unable to move as chains seemed to be wrapped around her tightly, all but digging into her flesh.

“Buffy!” A female voice, too distant to make out seemed to call to her. “Buffy... Buffy!”

Shaking her head, Buffy closed her eyes against the pain, and it slowly faded. Looking at the priest, she saw that everything had returned to normal again, although now he seemed to be looking at her with some concern. Looking down again, she saw that there was no sign of any chains, and the pile of holy symbols was absent as well.

“Are you alright, child? You seemed distressed for a moment.”

“I'm... fine. I thought... never mind.”

“Well, come on then. Let's get some food into you before you waste away.”

“Who are you?” Buffy asked as she slowly stood on shaky legs. She felt as though all of her strength was gone, and she could barely keep her balance.

“My apologies. My name is Sefick Corvin.”

“Sefick Corvin? I've heard that name before...”

“Oh? I'm not sure how. I am naught but a simple priest of the Lord.”

Buffy slowly followed him, taking in the small church as she went, the name nagging at her as she tried to remember where she had heard it before. She wasn't as bad with names as she often pretended, but she really wasn't the best at remembering them. As she passed a pew she was distracted by something sitting on the seat. It was the pile of holy symbols again.

Buffy staggered and nearly collapsed, her head feeling as though a hot poker was jabbed into her brain, and chains seemed to bite into her body as they constricted tightly around her. Everything became gray and blurry besides the holy symbols, and looking up she saw that Father Corvin was translucent again, although this time she could see that he was wrapped in chains too.

“Buffy!” the female voice called once more. “Wake up! Please...”

Reeling Buffy blinked, and everything snapped back into focus. There were no chains, around either herself or the now solid solid priest. Looking at the pew, she saw no holy symbols.

“Are you alright, child? Perhaps you should sit.” So saying, Father Corvin ushered Buffy onto a pew, frowning at her in concern.

“I don't know what's happening... I keep having these flashes...”

“Don't worry about a thing. You were just resurrected after all, you should expect some consequences from it. Why don't we sit here and rest for a bit and you can tell me anything.”

“What should I say?”

“Why don't you tell me about what's bothering you? Death is very traumatic, and you sound as though you've experienced it more than most.”

“Yeah. Fourth time wasn't the charm. Actually, it's starting to get old. I am so over dying.”

“What would you like to speak of then, child?”

“There is something that's bugging me. How are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how are you here? In this world? Because Catholic priests? Not so big around here.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Buffy looked down at the ground, frowning as she saw the pile of holy symbols sitting between her feet. Slowly picking it up, she felt the weight of the object in her hands as she examined them closely, the dozen metal symbols being different ones for the various gods commonly worshipped in Ustalav. None of them was the Christian cross. Nowhere had she seen or heard of any earth religion anywhere in Golarion.

“Buffy, listen...” the voice was distant, but familiar. A female voice. “You need to wake up, please. I can't do this by myself...”

Buffy kept a tight grip on the bundle of holy symbols as she slowly looked up at the priest sitting beside her. He was bound in chains from which dangled heavy weights decorated with the holy symbols which were represented in the cluster in her hands. Looking the now translucent priest dead in the eye Buffy gave him her best slayer glare. “Your name. I have heard it before. You're Father Charlatan.”

Glaring back, the priest responded, “foolish little girl. Just give up and give me your life!”

Snarling, Buffy strained, flexing her muscles to fight against the chains binding her. They dug into her skin, trickles of blood slowly dripping down from the wounds that her struggles opened. “Go to hell.”

“I will. And I will take you with me!”

Closing her eyes, Buffy pulled with all of her might, until finally, with a cry of mixed pain and triumph, the chains holding her shattered. A terrible wail rose up all around her as her blurry eyes opened and she found herself lying down on a stone floor staring up at dark clouds.

 

* * *

 

Buffy had been fighting the floating scythe with her usual inhuman grace and sublime skill. No matter how many times she saw her in action, Kendra could not help but be amazed by her. While forcing someone against their will to be the slayer was cruel, she could not argue with the effectiveness of the weapon forged by Buffy's 'Powers That Be'. Between her strength, which could rival even a giant, and the incredible skill with which she wielded it, Kendra felt no doubt that she was watching one of the finest warriors in all of Golarion.

Watching the scythe calculatingly, Kendra decided that it was simply a more powerful variation of the type of haunting entity that had animated the straightjacket and the manacles on the first floor of the prison. While hard to damage, being made of hardwood and metal, she concluded that physical attacks should end the threat posed by the executioner's weapon. Unfortunately, the scythe was proving to be made of far sturdier stuff than the earlier objects, and it seemed to be holding even Buffy at bay.

Watching the fast moving battle, Kendra felt disheartened at her chances of striking an effective blow with her magics. She had never been in a battle prior to the recent unpleasantness, and she was unsure how well she could handle herself. If she missed with her spells, she could potentially hit Buffy, which was certainly something she had to avoid. There was, however, one option which she could employ, and reaching into a pouch she produced the object that she needed to do so.

Holding the tiny, circular wooden object in her hand, Kendra glanced at it briefly. It was an inch and a half across, and was a half inch thick circular piece of fire hardened oak, with concentric circles drawn on one side in red paint. Gripping it tightly, Kendra chanted a spell quietly as she watched Buffy flip over the attacker, her weapon biting deeply for the first time, nearly splitting the haft of the scythe in two. Finally, as she began to wonder if it would be necessary, Kendra finished casting the spell.

The magical spell true strike wasn't flashy, but it was powerful. With it cast, Kendra could suddenly see possibilities stretching out before her. She could tell from moment to moment where the scythe would be, and as she reached into a pouch for other spell components she concentrated on when her best moment to act would come. Before she could cast another spell though, she saw the scythe open a thin scratch from a glancing blow across Buffy's stomach. The injury had been minor, and Kendra had been preparing to launch her own attack when she paused in shock.

Buffy had only been slightly cut, the wound barely even bleeding, but instead of ignoring it and pressing her attack, she dropped her weapon, her face locked in a painful grimace. Reaching down as she collapsed to her knees, she groped at the air as though trying to catch something spilling from her body, her hands struggling, trying to hold herself together. Finally, the slayer's dull eyes sought out Kendra's own as she keeled over, unconscious. Chains slowly came into existence, wrapped around her body so tightly they all but cut into her skin as she lay still, her chest barely moving as she breathed shallowly.

“Buffy!” Kendra shouted, shock and horror filling her. She wanted to run to the blonde, to help her somehow. On some level she simply wanted to fall apart, her fear for her friend almost overwhelming. However, Kendra pulled herself together as she watched the scythe spin around, drifting towards her as it moved to attack once more.

Wrapping a rhubarb leaf and the dried stomach of an adder around a small wooden dart she held in her right hand, Kendra chanted quickly, preparing her most powerful combat spell. The dart began to glow green, the other items consumed by the magics as she stepped back, her face a mask of concentration as she gripped the dart in a position to throw it. The scythe spun and dodged, trying to avoid her attack, but her true strike spell told her when to make her move, and move she did, swinging her arm as though throwing the dart, the green glow leaving the wood and flying through the air even as it coalesced into an arrow, the spell striking the head of the scythe. The green spread quickly over the metal, and it stopped glowing as a hiss rose into the air, the weapon dissolving under the potent acid created by her magic.

Unfortunately, while acid arrow was a potent attack spell, it wasn't the fastest one, the scythe flying toward her even as it dissolved. Not taking any chances while she waited for it to be destroyed, Kendra raised her left hand in a stopping motion in front of her as she spoke a single complex phrase in the language of magic, an invisible disc of force coalescing in front of her as the weapon attacked, the blade only striking her defense once before snapping in half, the weakened metal unable to take the impact. The blade broken, it fell to the ground, the skeletal arms fading away as the magical acid finally finished its job and became inert.

Panting heavily from reaction, Kendra only hesitated a moment before running over to her friend. Buffy lay as still as death, only the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of her chest revealing she yet lived. Examining the chains, she frowned as she could find no way to remove them, her hand passing through them without any effect, but any attempts to move Buffy being stopped by the skin tight chains wrapped around her.

Running every option she could think of through her head, Kendra was forced to conclude that her friend was held by some form of haunt, quite possibly one of the five prisoners which were the center of their current troubles. Unfortunately, with no idea where the haunt actually was, she could not simply employ her disrupt undead cantrip, and so she was at something of a loss. Considering her options, she finally settled on a spell that she could employ. Even if it did not help, it certainly could not worsen the situation.

“Buffy, I don't know if you are able to hear me, but I will try my best to free you from this.” Pulling a small vial from one of her pouches, she unscrewed its lid, revealing the finely powdered silver within. Holding her breath so as not to inhale any, Kendra carefully marked a circle on the ground around her friend with the substance as she chanted quietly, finally crouching within the circle and touching Buffy's shoulder as her spell reached its conclusion. The silver dust glowed brightly for a moment, before being consumed as light flowed over the downed slayer, granting her arcane protection against mystical evils.

Buffy lay quiescent for only a moment, before the chains became fully translucent, and she began to writhe, fighting against them. “Buffy!” Kendra shouted, her hand shaking the slayer's shoulder as she tried to gain her attention. “Buffy, please wake up. Buffy!”

Unfortunately, after a moment the haunt overcame the protection that she had given to Buffy, the chains becoming more solid, although her discerning eyes could tell that they were somewhat less tangible than they had been before. After another moment Buffy settled back into place, unmoving once again. Frowning, Kendra considered her options. Unfortunately, they were few. She had used up most of her prepared magics, leaving her with nothing useful but her cantrips, none of which seemed likely to be valuable under the current circumstances.

A thought struck her, and she reached into a pouch and pulled out her small collection of scrolls. Magical scrolls were not simply directions for spells, but were in fact fully prepared magics themselves, requiring only a small effort to perform the spells preserved within them. Her protection from evil spell seemed to have had some effect on the chains, and she had two scrolls of that spell, one she had made for herself as an exercise when she was learning to make scrolls, and the other having come from the cache of scrolls that Buffy had liberated from the false crypt.

Pulling out the first scroll, she carefully unfurled it before chanting the final part of the magics, the silvery glow streaming from the scroll down her arm and into Buffy as she held her shoulder, causing her to thrash and moan, the chains becoming faint once more.

“Buffy!” Kendra said as she discarded the now blank sheet of vellum that had once contained the spell. “Wake up! Please wake up. You're stronger than this! If a vampire could not keep you dominated, then you cannot let some haunt hold you!”

Unfortunately, after long seconds the chains became more real again, although now they appeared truly weak. Considering the rate at which they were fading, Kendra felt a certain degree of confidence as she pulled out her final scroll of the protection from evil spell. Unrolling it carefully, she chanted one last time, the glow flowing from the page and into her friend as Buffy began to strain against the chains once again.

“Buffy, listen to me,” she said firmly to her straining friend. “You need to wake up, please. I can't do this by myself, but together, I know we can save Ravengro...” her voice trailed off as she saw her stop moving once again, the barely perceptible chains still visible. “No! Buffy!”

Before Kendra could panic, Buffy suddenly moved, her entire body tensing as she strained against the chains, until with a cry of triumph and anguish she forced her arms and legs apart, blood flowing for a moment from a dozen abrasions before the chains burst into blue wisps of smoke as her eyes flew open. All around them a sourceless wail arose before fading into nothing.

 

* * *

 

“Buffy!” Kendra said, her face creased with worry from where she crouched over the slayer.

Buffy winced as she felt pain all over her body from where she had fought against the chains that had held her. Taking a deep breath to bring herself under control, she finally gave Kendra a somewhat strained smile as she shakily sat up. “Hey.”

“I was so worried!” Kendra said as she threw her arms around her friend, before pulling back as Buffy winced in pain from her numerous shallow wounds. “I'm so sorry! Are you alright? Of course you're not alright! Here, just give me a moment...”

Buffy smiled at her friend, cutting her off fondly. “Don't worry. I'll be A-Okay before you know it. Slayer healing.”

“Still, it would be best if we bandaged you. Are you sure that you will be alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry for making you all worried.” Buffy smirked at her as she pulled out one of her healing potions. “And see, I told you not to apologize earlier. Ghosts just do ghosty stuff like this.”

“You're right,” Kendra said smiling slightly as Buffy drank her potion and scrunched her face up in a silly manner. “Are you really alright, though? I was worried.”

“Hey,” Buffy said grinning as her wounds closed, her slayer healing combining with the healing magic to quickly fix the shallow but painful injuries. “I'm fine. No biggee. Plus, scratch one more ghost.”

“Oh?”

Reaching into her bag of holding, Buffy pulled out the cluster of holy symbols from the evidence locker, which no longer felt cold and creepy, and weren't fused together anymore either. “Yup. No more con artist ghost. I hope I never run into something like that again. I mean, a creepy priest? Wiggy.”

“So that was Father Charlatan then?”

“Yup. Next time I plan on touching a creepy dead body... smack me. Anyway, two down, three to go. So, ready to hit the basement?”

“Honestly?” Kendra asked hesitantly. “Not really. I've expended almost all of my magics, and it is beginning to grow dark. I would rather head into the lower level with the sun well over our heads, even if we are unable to see it.”

Buffy frowned as she looked in the direction of the setting sun. “I'd rather just finish this.”

“If we do, I will be little better than a liability without my more powerful spells ready,” Kendra said seriously. “The ghosts cannot escape until Vesorianna's name is fully writ, and with Gibs being held by Father Grimburrow, that won't be a concern for a time. It would be wiser to recover before we continue this, as we don't have any firm deadline hanging over our heads.”

“The longer we wait, the more ghosts mess with Ravengro.”

“It is my home, so I am of course concerned about its fate. But if we fail, who will be able to save it?”

Sighing, Buffy finally nodded. “I can't argue with that. But if we're going to stop, you're going to cook a good meal! I'm hungry.”

“Deal,” Kendra said, smiling as they stood. Buffy hadn't wanted to admit it, but she was fairly tired, although more emotionally after her experience than physically.

They made the trip in silence back to the Lorrimor home, Kendra only starting to speak as they entered Ravengro. “So, what did happen?”

“Huh?”

“You were unconscious for a time, and you seemed to have experienced something while you were down. And even before, you behaved very erratically from the moment the scythe scratched you.”

“I thought it was just a scratch at first, you know?” Buffy answered, her eyes distant. “But it didn't feel like it. It was like I was gutted, and I was trying to hold it together, but... I thought I died. Then I woke up, in a coffin...”

Kendra gasped. “Are you truly well?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, giving her her best attempt at a smile, although it was far from reassuring. “It just brought up some issues. I've been in my coffin way too often.”

“I would think a single time is enough for any lifetime,” Kendra answered quietly.

“Anyway, when I woke up, this priest gave me this big spiel about you having me brought back to life. I freaked a bit, but I knew something was off. Then I kept finding those holy symbols, and when I saw them I heard your voice. It took me a bit, but I figured out it was all a trick and woke up.”

“You were wrapped up in these spectral chains. I used my magics to try and help you, but I'm not certain how much good it did.” They were quiet for a bit as they neared Kendra's home. “Are you truly alright? Thinking that you died, and were brought back again...”

“I'm fine,” Buffy said, not looking at her.

“If you would like to talk...”

“Don't worry about me. Just get with the cooking! I need to take care of Mr. Gordo anyway, then I'll be in.” Buffy jogged to the small fenced area where her horse was kept. She knew she was avoiding the issues that her experience had brought up, but she had no interest in facing them. Too much had happened that day for her to face her past on top of it, and so she settled into the soothing rhythm of caring for her horse. He was as chubby as when she had bought him, and she still had doubts about whether he would be so friendly without her bringing him so many apples, but after so long on the road with just the two of them she knew she would miss him terribly when she found a way home.

When she went inside she was happy to see Kendra was willing to let things lie, only offering her a compassionate look before returning to cooking. She prepared a rich meat pie with a crust on top made from mashed potatoes, with a side of parsnips and carrots. The two women chatted quietly while they ate, ignoring the larger issues pressing upon them while they relaxed as though they had no cares in the world.

Buffy was enjoying her second slice of berry pie when they froze as a heavy knock sounded from the front door. Frowning, Kendra rose, walking quickly to answer it. Buffy simply ate for a moment, before something tickled slightly at her spidey-sense. Concentrating for a moment, her eyes widened as she leapt to her feet, rushing to stop her friend. “Kendra, wait!”

It was too late. Kendra had already opened to the door, revealing the rotting corpse standing on the doorstep. It wore nothing but a complex funeral shroud, and was obviously an older man, although the face of the zombie was so smashed as to be all but unrecognizable. Despite the damage, Kendra realized who he had been first, staggering back in panic as the undead creature entered the house, its broken maw emitting a hungry moan as it reached for the woman.

Kendra screamed, and screamed, and _screamed_ as the zombie of Petros attacked his daughter.

**Author's Notes**  
That was the first time I've really tried to change perspective character, but I thought that I should show what was really happening while Buffy was unconscious. Kendra used quite a bit of magic in this chapter, casting true strike, acid arrow, shield, protection from evil, and then using two scrolls of protection from evil. She is, at this moment, a level 4 diviner, although after a night of rest she will be hitting level 5.

I expanded the Father Charlatan business some, the limitations of a group role playing experience necessarily limiting what could occur at the table. Still, I kept it pretty close. This also finishes the upper levels of Harrowstone, leaving only the main cell blocks in the basement.

Finally, this was another cliffhanger I had planned long it advance. Yeah, I am that mean. This isn't the last one like this either.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**Into the Dungeons**

 

It had taken hours for Buffy to finally get Kendra to fall asleep, the zombie made from her father having driven her into hysteria followed by a lengthy fit of weeping that had finally worn her out. The zombie itself had been no trouble for Buffy to dispatch, as she had simply grabbed the hatchet usually used for firewood and beheaded it in a single stroke after pulling Kendra into the kitchen and away from the shambling undead monstrosity. When Kendra had finally succumbed to her exhaustion, Buffy had cleaned up the mess, and had used a wheelbarrow to transport her friend's body to the graveyard where she had swiftly reinterred him.

Buffy had slept fitfully that night, restless dreams of blood and something stalking her with an axe filling her head, and it was nearly noon when she finally made it to the living room, where she found a tired looking Kendra pouring over a stack of books. Grabbing some food for them both, she eventually managed to rouse her friend by reheating the leftovers of the previous evening's dinner. “What's the what?” she asked once they finally sat down to eat.

“Well,” Kendra said slowly as she poked at her food. “I have spent the morning preparing my magics. It was difficult, but I've even managed to memorize a few new spells.”

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked curiously. While she didn't know much about magic, she had listened to enough Willow-babble to know something about the way it was done on her own world.

“A diviner such as myself is a form of wizard, and must commit our magics into our minds in order to perform them. You see, spells are lengthy rituals which take up many pages in our tomes, and if you were to try and perform a spell directly from the ritual, you would never be able to accomplish anything. By the time you spent several minutes performing a spell, an enemy could have simply walked up to you and stabbed you with a knife.”

“That'd be a problem. Baddies are always inconsiderate that way.”

“Precisely. To avoid that problem, we perform the majority of the ritual, leaving the magical forumla trapped within our minds, and we simply use the final words, gestures and ingredients to complete the casting of the spell. Only the simplest of magics, which we refer to as cantrips, can be cast without losing our hold of the formula, forcing us to re-memorize the spell in order to it cast again, as the terminology goes.”

“So you, um, 'memorized' some new spells?” Buffy asked.

“Yes. I don't know many that will be of aid against our foes, but I have prepared what I could.”

After eating they gathered supplies, and soon they were walking once more towards Harrowstone Prison. While Kendra was obviously tired, her eyes were hard and determined, and Buffy couldn't help but wonder if that was how she had looked the day she had gone to confront Angelus. Checking her equipment one last time, Buffy led the way to the entrance to the lower level of the prison.

The entrance was the same dark hole in the ground that it had been the day before, and shining light from a new sun rod revealed little save the rubble that lay at the bottom of the pit. “How should we go about this, do you think?” Kendra asked as they stood carefully at the edge, gazing into the darkness.

“I've got a rope,” Buffy said, pulling it from her bag. Looking around, she found a large broken piece of rubble which she felt comfortable tying it around, before tossing the end of the rope into the hole. “Wish me luck.”

Before Kendra could say a word Buffy simple hopped into the hole, landing lightly on some shattered stone blocks next to a large but shallow pool of water that filled half of the enormous underground chamber. Shining her sun rod around the room, Buffy saw that it had once been even larger, with the majority of the chamber having collapsed during the fire, with soot still clinging to the stone between patches of mold. Nearby was a broken pile of wood and iron which had once been the lift to the upper level, and her keen slayer sight noticed several bones hidden among the debris.

Before Buffy could do more than find her balance and sweep the room quickly with her eyes, a terrible howling began all around her. The sound echoed in her ears, an agonized wailing like dozens of voices screaming as they were painfully burned alive. As the horrible sound began to fade, the dark still water of the pool began to ripple and churn, until, near the broken remains of the lift, two vaguely humanoid shapes slowly rose upwards.

The creatures appeared to be only half-formed, their bodies seemingly composed of strands of oozing semiliquid fibers which jiggled and dripped as they staggered unsteadily towards her. With every step they took the creatures seemed to be almost on the verge of falling apart completely, a silver trail of slime dripping behind them with every motion.

“What's the matter?” Kendra called down, her voice steady but anxious.

“Don't worry!” Buffy called. “Just give me a sec!” Drawing her silver short sword from its sheath, Buffy considered her targets as they closed relentlessly. She had never seen such monsters before, but her research during the first few days after Petros' funeral allowed her to recognize them as ectoplasmic creatures. Maddened and desperate, they would attack the living with insane bitterness, hating all living things as they sought some respite from their horrible existence.

When the first came close enough it swung its arm at her, the boneless creature flexing the limb in an impossible manner as it attacked. Buffy was faster, however, stepping back from the blow and swinging her sword to meet it, shearing the undead creature's arm off near the elbow, the severed limb falling to the ground with a loud splash as it lost cohesion and became a slimy heap on the floor.

Howling madly, the monster didn't even hesitate as it swung its remaining arm at her, Buffy's counter being foiled by the arrival of the other creature. The second monster punched with an open palm, the arm stretching disturbingly as it sought to strike her, forcing Buffy to duck to avoid the hit. Jumping backwards and finding her balance easily on the loose rubble due to a combination of her slayer agility and her boots of elvenkind, she watched warily as the two rushed at her again, their attacks fierce but uncoordinated.

Timing her move carefully, Buffy dove forwards as the two prepared to attack again, her sword lashing out and opening large gashes across their torso's as she used a forward handspring to escape their reach. Rolling to her feet smoothly she spun and charged at them as they staggered, beheading first one and then the other before they could react, their bodies collapsing into piles of silvery ectoplasmic slime as they died.

Looking around carefully, Buffy saw no further threats or other items of interest, and so after a moment she called, “all clear!”

Climbing the rope slowly and awkwardly in her long dark purple dress, Kendra eventually managed a safe descent to the chamber floor, taking in the room carefully as she did, finally drawing a sun rod of her own and igniting it when she reached solid ground. “What happened?”

“A couple of extra-plastic creatures. No biggie.”

Kendra gave her a confused look, before finally shrugging and deciding to ignore the issue. “It appears that we have no choice but to take that path.” The direction she pointed had the only apparent exit from the room, a narrow hall that eventually opened into a large, and more intact, chamber.

That room had four hallways that lead from it, each labeled with a sooty brass nameplate. At the center of the room was a rubble filled staircase, and around it lay eight skeletons dressed in singed prisoner's clothes. Reaching up, Kendra wiped the grime from the brass plate above the hallway they had entered through, revealing the name 'Hell's Basement'.

“Charming,” Kendra said flatly as she read the name.

With a great clatter the skeletons at the center of the room slowly began to animate, rising up and turning to face the women, bone fingers curling like claws as they moved towards them. “Step back into the hall,” Buffy ordered, raising her blade as she stood in the doorway, guarding her friend as the eight attackers closed with them.

From behind her she could hear Kendra chant quietly, until a moment later a streak of golden-white light lit up the room as it struck the lead skeleton, the positive energies of the cantrip causing the animated corpse to collapse to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Before she could cast it again, however, the remainder were upon them.

The next minute was a frenzy of activity, as Buffy was forced to fight defensively as her attackers pressed all around her, groping for her with sharp bone fingers. Behind her Kendra cast her spell over and over again, the magic picking off one skeleton after another as Buffy kept them at bay and damaged any that gave the slightest opening.

Unfortunately, as they fought Buffy noticed the air slowly growing warmer and warmer, the bones of the remaining skeletons beginning to glow like embers, heating up more and more before finally bursting into flame. By then their numbers had dwindled to just three, and rather than risk the likely dangers of continuing her defensive tactics against her now flaming foes, Buffy switched to offense, wading forward into the heat to deliver powerful downward blows that sheered through skulls and ribcages, shattering the last of the enemies and sending them to the ground in piles of smoldering bone.

After briefly conferring in the wake of the fight, they eventually decided to take the hallway to the right of their entrance. Reaching up before they entered it, Kendra cleaned the name plate for that wing of the prison, revealing it to be called 'The Oubliette'.

After walking a short distance down the corridor they found a door to their left which hung slightly ajar. Pushing it open, Buffy saw that it was a small guard room, with a table and chairs, and a pair of rotting cots. Along one wall was a winch assembly for raising and lowering the portcullis that Buffy could see at the end of the corridor in which they stood, although it was currently raised.

Climbing from behind the desk was another skeleton, which began to burn with bright flames as soon as it gained its feet. This skeleton, however, was missing its skull, and it moved with a fluid grace that the others had been lacking as it raised a rusty hand axe.

“Don't these things usually stop being all movey after they get beheaded?” Buffy asked curiously as she raised her blade, warily eyeing the skillful way the headless monster swung its axe through several fast practice swings.

“It does seem odd that the absence does not even faze it, I must admit,” Kendra answered, before she began to chant a spell.

Having apparently sufficiently limbered its nonexistent muscles, the headless skeleton charged Buffy, swinging the axe in a broad stroke before lashing out with its free left hand. Buffy ducked the first swing, blocking the second with her sword before the fiery limb could get too close, before countering with a swing of her own, her silver blade skittering across the burning ribs knocking loose shards of bone that lit the air like sparks as they fell.

Slashing again, this time her attack bit deeper, cutting a heavy notch in the creature's unnaturally tough breastbone, her blade becoming stuck as the creature twisted sharply, clawing at her with its free hand, forcing her to abandon the sword to avoid being burned. Before Buffy could draw another weapon, the skeleton swung its axe with blinding speed, but she managed to catch the stroke on her magical bracer. The skeleton had obviously not expected her strength, causing it to stagger slightly at the abrupt stopping of its powerful attack.

Taking advantage of the opening, Kendra cast her spell, blasting it with a ray of light, dimming the flames momentarily. Before it could recover Buffy kicked it hard, sending the skeleton flying back into the table, its spine bending unnaturally as it hit the heavy wood so forcefully that it flipped the solid oak table over, leaving the burning skeleton laying on top of it with its back bent unnaturally.

Not giving it a chance to recover, Buffy picked up one of the rickety chairs and brought it down on the skeleton hard, breaking both her improvised weapon and the monster's spine into pieces, killing the fire and reducing her enemy to a pile of hot bones lying on the ashy floor. Pulling out her sword, Buffy frowned as she saw that the force she had been wielding it with, combined with the heat, had warped the blade. “This was my favorite sword,” Buffy said, pouting.

“I do not believe its maker intended it to be put through such abuse,” Kendra replied, eyeing the damaged weapon.

“Flaming skeletons are probably against the warranty,” Buffy agreed, removing the sheath from her belt and discarding her damaged weapon. Digging through her bag of holding, Buffy hung the silver war razor she had found in the evidence locker at her side before pulling out her mace.

“I suspect the mace is a better choice for fighting these skeletons,” Kendra said with an approving nod.

“You jinxed it!” Buffy shouted, pointed at her friend.

“What do you mean?”

“You said it, so now we won't find another skeleton.”

“And the problem with that outcome would be?”

“Because that means we'll be fighting even worse stuff,” Buffy answered, rolling her eyes. Reaching into her bag again, Buffy decided to grab her short bow and string it, pulling it over her shoulder, before hanging her bundle of magical arrows from her right hip, opposite her war razor. The arrows could only be fired once each before they expended their magical properties, but she did not have any other magical weapons, and if she had to fight anything really nasty she might need them.

Moving down the hallway past the raised portcullis, the two women found themselves in a sizable chamber with metal cell doors covering every wall, and a ten foot by ten foot metal grate covering a dark pit at the center of the room. A thick rope dangled from the grate into the darkness of the hole.

Before they could do more than step into the room a bone chilling shriek echoed up from the depths of the pit, and a twisted human shape clambered up the rope with the agility of a spider, passing through the grate before launching itself howling at them without pause. The creature appeared to be a shaven headed, emaciated man with usually sharp teeth wearing a tattered prison uniform and wielding a large, blood soaked hand axe. Charging forwards, its legs bent and contorted under it as though they had extra, randomly placed joints as it sprang to attack.

Despite its speed, Buffy was far from caught by surprise, the creature's powerful presence having hit her slayer senses like a hammer blow the moment she had stepped into the room. Dropping her mace and drawing her bow, she knocked one of her ten ordinary magical arrows, waiting only a moment for a clear shot before she released, the missile passing through where its heart should be without any apparent resistance, only opening a tiny bleeding cut as his howl transformed from one of blood lust to one of pained rage.

Drawing another arrow, Buffy fired again at point blank range, her shot passing through the creature's breastbone cleanly as it swung at her, forcing her to duck away from the fast strike. Tumbling backwards Buffy drew another arrow which she fired even as she stood. Unfortunately her foe was inhumanly fast and agile, slipping sideways away from her shot on his unnaturally jointed legs. Buffy dropped the bow and raised her left arm to block his next swing, the creature revealing the disproportionate length of its arms as it attacked from well beyond the slayer's reach. However, even with the magic of her bracers, the axe simply ignored them, passing through Buffy's arm completely, leaving a soul deep chill that spread up her limb, until a moment later blood suddenly burst forth from a savage wound.

Buffy grunted in pain, her left hand rendered nearly useless from the damage as she pawed through her bag of holding for another weapon. Ducking under his backswing, Buffy lunged inside his guard and delivered a low spin kick, seeking to sweep his legs. Instead of achieving her desired effect, however, her leg simply felt frozen as it passed straight through his body without any impact.

Kendra finished casting a spell, her golden-white ray striking the monster and causing it to howl once again as it spun and changed at at her, weaving and screaming as it went, swinging the axe through the air before it. As it reached her, she stumbled back, attempting to avoid it, but her efforts were useless as its axe passed through her abdomen without pause. Kendra screamed and fell back against the wall, clutching her stomach as it suddenly began to bleed freely from a deep, delayed cut.

Buffy's eyes narrowed while her hand gripped her next weapon as her foe, which she presumed to be the Lopper, spun around, charging her again while whooping with malicious glee. The two wounds that her arrows had opened were much smaller than before, and as she watched they slowly closed up, revealing no evidence that she had hurt it. When it reached her, Buffy bared her teeth in a savage grin as she swung the Lopper's own axe at it, the bloody weapon thunking solidly into its side. Jerking away with an impossible sideways skitter, the Lopper screamed as it swung its spectral weapon at her, forcing Buffy to tumble back to safety.

Circling warily, the two warriors, living and undead, eyed each other as they gripped identical axes. Buffy could not delay for long, however, as the large injury which she had just inflicted, while slower to heal than the arrow wounds, began to do so as her and Kendra's wounds continued to bleed freely. Swinging her axe through a quick high and low pattern, Buffy pushed the Lopper back as he was forced to parry her attacks, their weapons clashing loudly against each other, each blow emitting clouds of white sparks that simply passed through the floor as they fell, leaving no trace.

Using her superior speed, Buffy finally managed to slip her axe past his guard, opening a shallow cut to his chest, before he suddenly disengaged, his strange stride allowing him to circle around her and charge at Kendra who had been tending to her serious wound while the slayer fought. Before he could reach her, however, Buffy tossed her axe to her still barely functional left hand and grabbed one of her five ghost touch arrows. Throwing it with incredible force, the magical arrow, designed to kill incorporeal creatures like this, struck it hard through the back and out of its chest where the heart should be, spraying blood from the large wound that pierced straight through it.

“Stay away from her!” Buffy shouted angrily. “You're mine!”

The Lopper shrieked back incoherently, spinning and charging at Buffy, its body weaving back and forth as it did so, preventing her from getting another clear shot. She ignored it however, tossing her axe back to her healthy hand and counter charging, meeting her foe axe to axe with a fantastic crash which she sent it flying back with a shriek of outrage.

Jumping into the air, Buffy swung her weapon down at her foe who lay sprawled on the floor. Before she could reach it, however, its body contorted like a dying spider, the apishly long arms twisting as its freakishly jointed legs coiled, until with a burst of motion, it sprang sideways, spinning its axe as it did so, cutting into Buffy side. As before, a numbing cold filled her, and only after her own weapon imbedded harmlessly into the stone floor did her cut open and begin to bleed.

Gripping her axe hard, Buffy planted her feet and pulled the weapon from the ground with a grunt of effort and a shower of stone chips. Spinning low beneath a decapitating swing, Buffy caught the Lopper in the hip, opening another deep gash. Blocking his counter attack, she swung again high, then low, falling into the same rhythm as before, forcing him to simply react and block with her superior speed and skill, his defensive moves now well understood by his cagey opponent.

Another flash of light lit the room as Kendra returned to the fray, blasting it in the back with another spell. Taking advantage of the distraction, Buffy snuck her weapon past his guard and imbedded it deeply in his shoulder, nearly removing the arm. Twisting the haft cruelly as she retrieved her weapon, the Lopper staggered back screaming in pain as she tore a huge hole in his torso.

Casually blocking his weakening attacks, Buffy slowly pushed the Lopper back, forcing him completely on the defensive as she slowly opened one shallow gash after another on her opponent. As it weakened, Kendra continued to strike it with her cantrip, leaving it staggering and wounded, barely able to defend itself. Finally, with one last powerful swing, Buffy knocked its axe out wide, before stepping close and beheading it with a backhand swipe of her weapon. The head screamed in outrage and pain all the way to the ground, before the Lopper slowly transformed into a shadow, then faded away into nothing, its final howl echoing in their ears as it disappeared.

“What... the _hell_... was that thing?” Buffy asked, panting. The Lopper's axe, which had previously given her the creeps, was now free of blood and felt comfortable in her hand.

“I'm uncertain,” Kendra answered in a strained voice. “It did not clearly resemble any particular type of undead creature with which I am familiar. It may have been something unique.”

“Huh?”

“It's not terribly uncommon for such a powerful event as the fire that burned down Harrowstone to generate truly unusual undead entities. Even expert necromancers do not fully comprehend the forces that are at play in a place such as this.”

“Well, its re-dead now,” Buffy quipped, bringing a brief smile to Kendra's face. “How's your stomach?”

“I believe the bleeding is slowing, but it took my last healing potion to make any headway. The wounds it inflicted bled far more freely than they should have.”

“Yeah. They're pretty ouchy too. Here, take some of my healing potions. I'm running low, but I've got a few left.”

The two women spent several minutes tending to their wounds, before finally taking stock of the situation. The metal doors all around the room were empty cells, most of which were unlocked. Finally they came to the edge of the grate covered pit and peered down into it, the bottom only dimly visible under the light of their sun rods.

“What is this?” Buffy asked curiously.

“As the name of this wing indicated, this is an oubliette. A 'forgotten place.' Those kept in them are supposed to be so terrible that their captors merely wish to forget their very existence.”

“So they just throw them in a hole in the ground! The more I hear, the more I think this prison sucks.”

“What about your friend, the one who killed your sister and sent you here?”

“What about her?” Buffy sked defensively.

“If you had a choice about her punishment, what would you do? Would you wish to forget her?” Kendra asked, gesturing at the oubliette.

Buffy stood for a long moment at the edge of the pit, her keen slayer eyes making out the broken remains of a corpse that must have once been the Lopper. “No. I couldn't throw her in there, even after what she did. I may want to move on, but I don't what to forget her that way. She was my friend once. As mad as I am, as much as it hurts... I couldn't do this to her. I couldn't do this to anyone.”

Kendra simply nodded solemnly.

**Author's Notes**  
This begins the lower level of the prison in Haunting of Harrowstone. Kendra continues to use her disrupt undead cantrip to great effect, and they have now taken down three of the five prisoners. The Lopper's axe is no longer cursed (her dream about blood and being hunted could have led to a painful awakening after a while), and is now a minor magical weapon. Like the first chapter in the dungeon, this covered most of the random fights in the area, so it was a series of short skirmishes, although this one ended with a major fight.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**A Place of Punishment**

 

Returning to the central chamber, Buffy and Kendra continued around the room to the hallway leading to the next wing of the prison. Cleaning the soot from the brass plate, Kendra read its name. “'Reaper's Hold'. The builders believed in ill names it seems.”

“Drama queens,” Buffy replied with a snort. “I'd like to see a prison try to get away with that back home.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, prison is out of vogue. They call them 'Correctional Facilities.' A Correctional Facility with a wing called 'Reaper's Hold' would be pretty wacky.”

The hallway had a closed door on either side of it, and at its end was a lowered portcullis. Stopping at the doors, Buffy pushed the left one open revealing an office with a large table and two chairs, a sagging cot against one wall, and some cabinets against another. On the table were three broken human skulls, the shards having been carefully picked over and some removed and placed in a pile that was vaguely shaped like an additional skull, as though someone had tried to make a new head from the shattered pieces of the first three. Next to them was a heavy hammer, and lying on the ground behind the table was a leathery body. It was stocky and had long red hair and a beard, and a glance informed Buffy that it was of the nonhuman species called a dwarf.

Upon entering the room Buffy's slayer senses began reacting strongly, and after a moment the three shattered skulls began to clatter and rattle as they rose up and reformed in midair. Opening their fractured jaws, the three heads began to wail like banshees, creating an eerie discordant chorus that was probably the most bone chilling sound Buffy had ever heard. For a moment her life seemed to flash before her eyes, and everything felt hopeless. No matter how despairing the magic made Buffy, however, the artificial feelings imposed by the screaming was nothing compared to how she had felt after crawling from her grave, and as the Slayer, even when feeling hopeless her first instinct would always be to fight. Gripping the Lopper's no longer blood stained axe, Buffy prepared to attack.

Before she could do anything, a blue mist rose from the corpse, which swiftly formed into a translucent blue dwarf holding a hammer and crouching, with a broken skull floating beside him, it missing a single shard of bone from its side. The dwarf began to sob brokenly, its deep sounds of grief a counterpoint to the high pitched wailing of the three skulls.

Before the Mosswater Marauder could do more than manifest, Buffy leapt forward, her axe flashing through the air and passing through the dwarf's neck, to no avail. Stepping back to avoid the spirit's counterattack by a hairsbreadth, her eyes narrowed as she saw that her attack had had absolutely no effect. Glancing back at her friend, she was dismayed to see Kendra was sobbing, her eyes distant as she tried to cover her ears. “Kendra!”

Blinking, Kendra shook her head, her gaze focusing on her friend, who had to sidestep sharply to avoid a potent downward blow from their enemy. Gathering herself, Kendra ignored the wailing and began to chant quietly, preparing her own attack. Before she could finish, however, the Marauder charged through Buffy harmlessly before swinging his hammer downwards, striking the wizard's head with a dull thump. Screaming in pain, she clutched her temples and reeled backwards, a blue translucent shard of bone flying from her head before floating next to the hole in the side of the skull that floated beside the Marauder. The piece did not match the hole in the side of the skull, and a moment later it faded away.

Drawing one of her magical arrows, Buffy threw it hard, but like the Lopper's axe it passed through the figure harmlessly, imbedding to its fletching in the stone wall behind it. Before she could try anything else, she was forced to dive sideways and roll as the three wailing skulls suddenly dove for her, seeking to attack her while she was distracted dealing with their master.

Rolling to her feet smoothly, Buffy reached into her bag and pulled out the Marauder's hammer, a tool for smithing rather than combat, although it was still well balanced. Upon seeing it, the Marauder covered his face and began screaming with despair, his anguish painful to look upon. Gripping the tool tightly, Buffy swung it through a looping arc as one of the skulls dove at her again, striking it on its side and shattering it like china, the pieces pelting the far wall of the room like jagged hail. The Marauder screamed again, this time in pain, and clutched its own head as it became fainter for a moment before stabilizing.

Looking at her friend, Buffy saw that Kendra was almost completely out of it, crouched on the floor holding her head and in obviously great pain. The sound that the Marauder's hammer had made when it had struck her friend still filled her ears, and Buffy wondered if it would sound different if she used a real hammer. Buffy began to walk towards her friend, wanting to break her head open with the hammer more than anything...

After a single step she froze, shocked. Shaking her head vigorously, she could hardly believe what she had wanted to do. Looking at the cold, heavy smithing hammer she held, Buffy recalled the ghost's warning about how cursed the items would likely be. The last time she had wielded a hammer, she had beaten a god into submission with it. There was no way she would lose herself to a haunted hammer.

Buffy wasted no more time, charging the next skull and striking it upon the crown of its head, breaking it into tiny pieces that clattered to the floor to the accompaniment of pained howls from the Marauder, who responded by staggering towards her in a daze, swinging its own hammer. Ducking the clumsy attack, Buffy pulled back the hammer beside her head and let fly, throwing it through her enemy harmlessly before striking the last floating skull, breaking it as well.

The Marauder locked its teary gaze with Buffy as it screamed again, until it slowly faded away, the expression on its face becoming almost peaceful as it disappeared. Hurrying over to her friend, Buffy crouched beside Kendra and began to delicately probe her skull, checking for damage, something she had great experience with over the years from Giles' propensity for head injuries. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she rasped. “It feels as though my head split open though. For a moment, I couldn't even move it pained me so terribly.”

“Well, it doesn't seem broken. You don't even have a knot, so I'm thinkin' it wasn't really all real, you know?”

“Yes, I think you are right. But real or no, it felt as though the blow shattered my skull, which is an experience I cannot find myself recommending.”

“I'll pass on it then,” Buffy said dryly.

Kendra gathered herself for a moment before wandering over to the desk and taking a moment to look through the papers sitting out upon it. “I think that this may have once been the office of the captain of the guards. These papers discuss prisoner dispositions and the like.”

“Anything useful?” Buffy asked as she glanced at the papers.

“Hmm. Let me see...” Kendra's voice trailed off as she flipped through the various documents.

Buffy left her to it, taking another long look around the room as she did. The chamber was fairly spartan, with little of interest until her sharp eyes noticed something odd. Walking slowly back and forth, she saw an odd seam in the wall when the light caught it just right. Moving closer, she traced the seam completely, revealing it to be in the shape of a door, with a shallow depression on one side that contained a crack, which hid a lock.

Buffy pulled out her picks and began to fiddle with the lock. Unfortunately, even the advanced criminal skills that Spike had once taught her were insufficient, her pick getting caught on one of the tumblers and nearly breaking in half when she twisted it wrong. Frowning, she carefully extracted the expensive tools, knocking on the door to gage its thickness. From what she could tell it was made from nearly a foot of solid stone, with no finger holds to help force it open.

“Did you find something?” Kendra asked, making Buffy jump slightly before she could respond.

“Yeah. Secret door. You?”

“The Splatter Man was apparently being kept in an oubliette in the Nevermore wing.”

“Nevermore wing?”

“Yes. It was used as solitary confinement for the most heinous criminals within the prison. The name was meant to imply that those who entered it would never again see the light of day.”

“Lovely. 'Course, given what we read about him, I'm guessing that he would be the worst of the worst.”

“Indeed. Now then, is that door locked in some fashion?”

“Yup. Way beyond my skill at lock pickage.”

Smiling, Kendra walked to the door, before speaking a word of magic which Buffy could not understand, nor could she retain in her memory in any form. With a muffled click the heavy stone door unlocked.

Buffy opened the door and shined her sun rod around the small alcove, revealing racks of weapons, armor, and a dusty wooden chest. Walking over to the weapon racks she was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the items, being far finer than most of what she had. “Why would a prison have such nice stuff?”

“When Harrowstone was built, it was intended to house the most dangerous prisoners from all of Ustalav,” Kendra answered. “Before its construction, every region had to house its own criminals. By taking custody of them, the town received a significant stipend, allowing the prison to have the best of everything. I'm not surprised that they had such high quality gear here; in fact, they may even have some items of magic.”

Kendra muttered an incantation and made subtle gestures with her fingers, before looking around the room carefully. Opening the chest, she dug through it, recasting her cantrip several times, examining a number of items which she placed aside in a pile. Buffy looked through the weapon racks, eventually grabbing a longsword with a silver hilt that projected a short three pronged guard, each piece artfully crafted into the head of a dog, giving it the look of a cerberus. Drawing the blade, she was impressed with the balance, eventually stuffing it into her bag of holding, before pulling out her battered but functional crossbow. Grabbing the two crossbows off of the rack, she put one in her bag and brought the other to Kendra.

“Find anything?” Buffy asked.

“Yes, several items. A few healing potions, which fortunately were well sealed and therefore did not degrade over these past fifty years, ten plain magical crossbow bolts, a wand whose purpose I have not yet divined, and this.” Kendra held up a long bundle of thin rope.

“It's rope,” Buffy said dubiously.

“Not just any rope! This is a rope of climbing.”

“Which means...”

“Let me show you,” Kendra said, grinning. Holding one end, she spoke in a clear voice. “Up.” The rope began to climb through the air until it reached the ceiling. “Attach.” At her command it wrapped itself around a support beam, tying a knot to hold it in place. “Knot.” The rope contorted, and all along its length knots tied themselves at one foot increments.

“Alright, for rope that's pretty cool,” Buffy said, her voice impressed despite herself.

“Indeed. It also is able to support several thousand pounds without breaking, and I can free it with a few simple commands as well. Unknot. Detach. Coil.” The rope writhed and contorted, eventually returning to being a small bundle in her hand. “I just wonder why they had such a thing in the first place.”

“The warden collapsed the stairs to keep the prisoners from escaping. They probably kept it in case they had to do that.”

“Oh,” Kendra said, hanging the rope from her belt. “That does make sense. What is the crossbow for?”

“I looked at yours, and both of ours suck majorly. These are way better.”

Kendra set her crossbow on the floor, before examining her new one. Like the one Buffy took, it had sturdy metal arms, a cleverly geared reloading mechanism, and a satiny finished, although now dusty, stock engraved with a depiction of a soaring hawk. “This is nice.”

“Yup. Take the magical bolts too. I'll stick with the short bow since I have the ghost touch and undead bane arrows for it.”

Buffy took one last look around the room, admiring the armor for a minute, although nothing was even close to her size, and she had little intrest in wearing the constricting items. Any protection it would provide, in her opinion, wouldn't be worth the loss of mobility that she would suffer from wearing it, and so she had no interest in even trying it on, regardless of its quality. Gathering up the healing potions and stuffing them into her bag, she lead the way back out of the captain's office.

The door across the hall fell open with a slight touch, revealing another rotting guard room. Along one wall was a winch system. Walking over to it, the two women examined the simple mechanism. “It appears to be locked, if I am understanding this correctly,” Kendra said, pointing at a metal sliding bar on the wheel of the winch.

Buffy unlocked the device, then began to turn the handle, the rusty mechanism groaning as it slowly raised the heavy iron portcullis in the hallway outside. While obviously in poor repair, the winch stood up to the strain, until finally Buffy moved the sliding bar again, locking it in place.

Moving past the raised portcullis, they explored the largest cell block they had so far found. It was full of cramped stone cells whose iron doors hung open, revealing little besides piles of rotten straw and wooden buckets. Eventually they came to the only door that wasn't part of a cell, although it was still made of heavy iron. Turning the handle with a loud squeak, Buffy pushed the door open and led the way into the next chamber.

The room was a place of grim nightmares. Cages hung from chains along the walls, and at the center of the room was a large fire pit, long since burned out. Tables covered with medieval implements of torture were scattered about the room, along with a large wooden tank and other items that Buffy did not recognize. Near them was a wooden rack, the skeletal remains of a human body stretched upon it, surrounded by stained tools, such as knives, branding irons and pliers. Against the far wall was a large iron maiden, which was embellished with the image of a woman in terrible torment.

“Every time I think to myself: self, this is terrible; we find something so much terribler,” Buffy said, her voice flat and dead.

“This... this place was no simple town jail,” Kendra said, her voice sick. “Anyone sent to Harrowstone should have had no lingering questions as to their guilt or innocence. Any tortures inflicted here, must have been solely done for the purposes of tormenting those awaiting execution. I... I find myself appalled.”

Subdued, the two women approached the rack. “That's a guard uniform,” Buffy said as they examined the broken body.

“He died terribly,” Kendra murmured, looking somewhat green.

“Yup. Broken bones, no hands, his arms and legs are dislocated, needles jabbed everywhere...”

Kendra retched, staggering away from the table. “That's quite enough.”

“Sorry. There's something in his mouth. I think they broke his jaw with it.” Buffy carefully pried the shattered jaws open and pulled out a badge. “What's this?”

Kendra brought her rebellious stomach under control and took the disc, examining it closely. “This appears to be a badge of office. If I were to hazard a guess, I would think that this body is most likely that of the Warden.”

“So the prisoners break out, and he keeps them from escaping. So they get all angry with him.”

“Precisely. They had claimed to have been holding him hostage, but it would appear that that had been a lie, as he most likely died hours before the fire.”

“Let's not tell Visa-anna how he died. I don't want to see her get cranky.”

“Vesorianna,” Kendra corrected automatically, before her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh! Do you recall, she desired some symbol of office to gain control over this place to cleanse it of the haunting. Do you think that this will do?”

“I'd say so, yeah,” Buffy replied absently as she walked around the rack to a bloodstained wicker basket on the floor near its head. “You know, I'm thinkin' that whatever is in this box, is the kinda surprise that I really don't want to have.”

Kendra walked around beside her, looking down at the basket as well. “What do you suppose is in it?”

“I dunno. But I'm sure its wiggy.”

While Buffy contemplated the basket, Kendra wandered around the room, a disturbed curiosity drawing her from one macabre spot to another, only stopping when they heard a creaking sound. Buffy glanced up to see the iron maiden opening on its own, revealing within it the middle aged man who ran the tavern in town, Zokar Elkarid.

“Zokar!” Kendra shouted, scurrying towards his still from.

“Wait!” Buffy called. She wasn't certain what was going on, but she knew enough about the way that creepy ghosts worked to guess that it was not actually Zokar in the iron maiden, and that approaching it would not end well. Before she could say anything more, however, the basket at her feet suddenly opened, and a hand jumped out and wrapped around her throat, choking her. Glancing down, she saw a second hand scurrying out of the box like a macabre parody of spider.

Seeing the hands attacking, several things quickly passed through her head before she began to act. The first was resignation, as the last time she had been attacked by an animated hand, it had been one of the most unpleasant experiences of her life. The second, briefly, was a peculiar kind of satisfaction at finding out what had happened to the Warden's hands. However, the predominant thought that drove her to action, was that she could not let whatever was happening hurt her friend.

Buffy ran towards Kendra, grabbing the wrist of the hand strangling her as she did so, her slayer constitution allowing her to shrug off the effects of oxygen deprivation for long enough to save her friend. When Kendra reached the iron maiden, her hands passed through the image of Zokar, and before she could react the torture device began to close with tremendous force. Just before it could slam shut, however, Buffy thrust her hand out, her fingers wrapping around the door at the last moment.

Unfortunately for Buffy, while she had managed to reach the iron maiden in time to interpose her hand in the doorway, she had not been soon enough to actually stop it from closing, the heavy iron slamming into the fingers of her left hand with enough force to break even her bones. The pain was excruciating, but her scream was choked off by the hand still clutching her throat.

The door continued to try to shut, grinding on her broken bones, causing so much pain that her vision began to go black. Buffy slowly became more and more disconnected with each passing second, as she found herself contemplating whether it was actually the pain or the oxygen deprivation that was making it so difficult for her to think. Blinking against he encroaching darkness, Buffy released the hand clutching her throat and began blindly groping in front of her, before her numb fingers finally found the seam in the iron maiden.

With her vision fading and her sense of touch all but completely compromised, Buffy struggled to get a grip on the door, before finally setting herself and pulling with all of her might. Grunting out the last of her air, Buffy pulled until, with a great shriek of tearing metal, she ripped the door of the iron maiden from its hinges, sending the heavy front flying through the air until it smashed the wooden tank into splinters.

Staggering back, Buffy grabbed the hand around her throat again and pulled, forcing her broken fingers to act until she finally managed to pry it off, choking in desperately needed oxygen. Before she could take more than a single breath, however, she found herself once again being strangled as the second hand finally grabbed her, continuing where the first had left off.

Holding the first hand at bay painfully with her broken left, Buffy worked her right hand under the one gripping her throat, carefully prying it off, allowing her to suck in air once again. As her vision cleared, she was relieved to see a flash of golden-white light as Kendra used her magics to destroy the hands. It took several castings, but Buffy managed to hold the two hands at bay until they finally lay limp and dead in her grip.

“I really hate creepy mummy hands,” Buffy choked out through her bruised throat.

“Those don't seem to be particularly like the hands of a mummy,” Kendra said, pulling out medical supplies as the two sat on the ground in front of the broken iron maiden.

“There was this whole thing with this mummy hand that kept strangling me over and over again.”

“Why then did you not simply, as you put it, slay?”

“I did. Then suddenly, it was back again. Over and over. It was this whole thing with a time loop.”

“Temporal magics are extremely advanced,” Kendra said absently as she carefully examined Buffy's hand. “This is going to hurt quite a bit.”

“I know. I have broken so many bones doing this it isn't even close to funny.”

The closing lid had caught Buffy high on all four of her fingers, breaking the bone of each digit close to the hand. Kendra gently took the first finger, the slayer holding her breath as her friend then manipulated the finger, setting the bone back into place. “I'm sorry,” she said quietly.

“Don't worry, I knew it would hurt,” Buffy answered in a strained voice as Kendra began to work on her middle finger.

“Not for that, although I am sorry that this hurts. I'm sorry that you hurt your hand because you had to save me,” Kendra said, her voice thick with shame as she set the second finger.

Buffy grunted, sweating. “I already told you yesterday, stuff like that happens. Ghosts are tricky. Last time I got trapped, this time you got trapped. So no apologies, you got me missy?”

“Thank you,” she said, setting another finger. “And whether you accept it or not, I am sorry. Will you be alright to continue?”

“Yeah,” Buffy answered, gulping air as Kendra began to work on her last finger. “And I so forgive you.” Gasping again, she watched Kendra set her final finger, before carefully wrapping each digit. Pulling out healing potions from her bag, Buffy drank two, the warm magics soothing her bruised throat and broken fingers.

Leaning back, Buffy carefully flexed her hand once the magics finished their work, suppressing a wince as she did. Magical healing could work wonders, but it had its limits, and a broken bone, although healed enough to be functional, would still be somewhat painful for the rest of the day even with her slayer healing. “Thanks,” Buffy said smiling at her friend.

The two women briefly surveyed the torture chamber, before departing it, each moving quicker than normal, although neither commented on it. Returning to the central room they faced the hallway to the last wing of the prison. Wiping the brass name plate clear of soot, Kendra revealed it to be 'Nevermore'.

**Author's Notes**  
The dungeon crawl portion of the Haunting of Harrowstone nears its conclusion! Only one more prisoner to go. Kendra employed detect magic, disrupt undead and knock in this chapter. The sword and crossbows were masterwork weapons, not magical (unlike the stuff in the trunk).


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**Of Blood Writ Names**

 

A short distance down the hall into the Nevermore wing of the prison was an open entrance to another guard room, its door having long ago collapsed into a pile of singed and rotten detritus. Stepping into the room, Buffy and Kendra briefly examined the burned out shell of a room, before wandering over to the remains of the winch that had controlled the portcullis which blocked the entrance to the cell block.

“This is unfortunate,” Kendra said, examining the slagged remains of the mechanism. “I don't believe that we will be able to open it from here.”

“Well, time to use the ol' slayer strength,” Buffy replied, leading the way to the portcullis. Examining it briefly, Buffy eventually grabbed the metal gate with her right hand, and wrapped her left arm around another section, being careful not to strain her recently healed fingers by pulling with them. “Move back,” she ordered as she set her feet carefully.

Once Kendra was out of the way, Buffy began to pull, the metal squealing in protest as she strained against it, the heavy gate bending as it groaned. Rather than try to lift it, she decided to simply tear it out, allowing them to make a quick exit if necessary. Grunting with effort, Buffy used the traction her magical boots gave her to apply an impossible amount of force, twist her hips as she pulled, until, with a loud screech, the metal failed, the portcullis breaking free into her hands. Stumbling back under the awkward load, she finally tossed it to the ground with a loud bang.

Brushing her hands free of rust, Buffy picked up her sun rod and grabbed her short bow with her other hand. Sharing a look with Kendra, who held her own sun rod and had pulled out the moldy spell book that had once been the property of the Splatter Man, the two nodded, showing their readiness. They had encountered many difficulties over the past days, but now they were prepared to face the chief ghost of the prison.

The final wing of the prison was in poor condition, having partially collapsed during the fire. It had a similar layout to the wing in which they had encountered the Lopper, with an oubliette at the center of the chamber and iron cell doors hanging open all along the outside of the room. The far end of the area had long ago collapsed, with burnt supports littering the floor in that region. A large but shallow pool of stagnant water covered the far end of the room, and had long since filled the pit at its center.

As they took in the chamber, Buffy was overwhelmed by the sickening sense of evil which pervaded everything, the malignancy of the ghost that had long sought to escape this place having seeped into the very stones. Walking into the room had been like walking into the Master's lair before she had died for the very first time, as a veritable miasma of darkness nearly overwhelmed her senses, sending her reeling. When she brought herself back under control, she looked up and saw a large letter 'B' slowly appearing on the wall in fresh blood.

Walking over to the writing, Buffy could smell the fresh sent of the blood, and she found herself almost in a daze as she watched the letter 'u' join the text on the wall. As she watched her name being spelled out before her, she was suddenly struck by the sense that for every letter being written something was being _taken_ from her. Her life, her soul, her sanity, the very essence that made her _Buffy_ was being drawn from her one letter at a time, and she could feel her sense of self fading with ever stroke as the first 'f' joined her name on the wall.

Slinging her bow over her shoulder, Buffy pulled the Lopper's axe from her bag and with a great swing, she shattered the brick, breaking up the writing in a shower of stone shards, and with it she felt her sense of self returning. Blinking, she looked up as she heard desperate panting and banging as Kendra chipped away at another section of wall with a dagger, obliterating the letters 'Ken' before her name could fully form.

Looking around quickly, Buffy ran to another stretch of wall and with a single chop of her axe destroyed her name before more than a single letter could form. Gripping her axe so tightly her knuckles turned white, she glanced around quickly. While they could easily destroy the writing before it finished, Buffy had a bad feeling about letting the haunt hold the initiative. As she destroyed her name once again, she thought hard, trying to figure out what she could do besides simply react. Finally, as her sense of self returned completely with the destruction of another part of her name, she had an idea.

Reaching into her bag, Buffy pulled out her final haunt siphon. Looking around the ruined chamber one last time, Buffy grabbed the end of the device and twisted it, filling the room with a golden glow. The walls lit up with green light, which flowed in thick ribbons to her device, draining away the spectral energies in the area and charging the tiny object completely, leaving it glowing faintly green even as its golden light faded away.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, with a great crack, one of the main support beams for the ceiling broke into a shower of splinters, and the room began to shake. Rocks and wood rained downwards, and all of the stone walls, weakened by both the fire and the women's frantic efforts, began to crumble.

Rushing across the room, Buffy dove on top of Kendra, covering as much of her body as she could with her smaller form as bricks fell on them, drawing a pained grunt from her lips. Finally, after long terrifying moments which felt like hours during which visions of being buried alive, again, filled Buffy's head, the collapse stopped.

Coughing and choking on the dust which hung thick in the air, Buffy stood shakily, before helping Kendra to her feet. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” Kendra answered with a cough. “And yourself?”

“Peachy with a side of keen. I've never been so glad to have gotten used to vamp dust.”

Before Kendra could reply, a great scream rent the air, shaking their bones with its basso power, before rising higher and higher into an outraged shriek. Emerging from the water filled oubliette, the ghost of an old man floated into the air. He had a wild beard, and staring black pits for eyes. He was dressed in the ragged remains of a striped prison uniform, and like both the Mosswater Marauder and Vesorianna, his coloring was entirely in shades of blue.

Buffy hesitated for a moment, considering her options. She only had twelve magic arrows left, and of them, only four were ghost touch arrows, designed to kill incorporeal creatures such as ghosts, and two were the more powerful undead bane arrows. The remainder were capable of harming ghosts, but only slightly, and she wasn't certain if any of her melee weapons would hurt it at all. The Splatter Man looked like a ghost, but she had already wasted an arrow attacking the Mosswater Marauder, which had simply ignored it, being a haunt. Otherwise, she had a few bottles of holy water, several healing potions for when she was hurt, and whatever magics Kendra could bring to bear. Finally, she decided to be careful, simply dropping her sun rod, pulling out one of her plain magic arrows, and firing it at the ghost.

During the brief moment in which she had considered her options, the Splatter Man had already begun casting a spell. He chanted for a moment in the arcane language, gesturing with a tiny bag held in one hand while his other held a spectral candle. With his final gesture the air in the front of Buffy twisted and distorted, and with a stench like sulfur, suddenly, in what had just been empty space, were three enormous rats. They were hideous, black furred creatures with red glowing eyes, and bodies covered with razor sharp, white bony protrusions. All three locked eyes with the slayer and and chittered at her with enormous, razor sharp teeth, before charging.

Buffy kept one eye on her arrow as it passed through the Splatter Man's side, piercing him through, leaving a small hole which oozed a trickle of blue blood down his tattered prison garb, even as she began to react to her new opponents. Kicking hard, her foot struck the closest in the side of its neck between the bone spurs sticking out from its jaw, and the sharp protrusions extending from its shoulder, snapping its neck and sending it tumbling sideways. The summoned monster faded away in a twisted distortion of space even as it hit the ground, leaving no trace that it had ever existed.

Buffy jumped backwards several feet, narrowly avoiding the chomping jaws of the other two creatures, while behind her she heard Kendra finish casting a spell, the golden-white beam of her anti-undead cantrip streaking across the room and striking the ghost, causing him to snarl angrily. “You should have died long before now! For forcing me to waste my time fighting you, I will...”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Buffy interrupted. “I've heard it all before. What is it with you Big Bads always being all with the monologging?”

“You insufferable wench! You will know suffering beyond all mortal reckoning!”

Buffy flipped over the rat monsters, slapping them across their snouts with her bow to keep their attention, before landing on one leg and delivering a powerful back kick as she touched down that caved in the rib cage of one creature, then tumbled sideways to avoid the last, her slayer agility and magical boots allowing her to perform the difficult acrobatic evasions despite the rubble from the roof collapse that filled much of the chamber. As she came to her feet she pulled one of her ghost touch arrows form her side, aiming her bow quickly and firing straight at the Splatter Man.

Her opponent had not simply waited idly, however, and had been chanting his own spell while Buffy had prepared her attack. As the arrow left her bow, a brilliant blue orb gathered on the tip of the Splatter Man's index finger, before it suddenly bulged outward, blossoming into four wickedly barbed arrows of blindingly intense sapphire light that flew at incredible speed towards the two women. Buffy tumbled and dodged with everything she had, but two of the magical arrows struck her in the torso, gouging deep wounds which bled sluggishly. Kendra had been casting her own spell, but the other two hit her soundly, rocking her backwards with a cry of pain and disrupting her magics.

The Splatter Man did not get away completely clean in the exchange, however, Buffy's enchanted arrow passing through his stomach at the same moment she had been hit, leaving a bloody channel through his body and drawing another cry of pain from his lips. Chanting again, he began to fly backwards as he gestured, passing through the walls of the open cells in an attempt to foil any attempt at a counter attack.

Kendra began casting a shielding spell to protect herself from further attacks, holding her left hand in front of her as she chanted. Buffy hopped sideways to avoid the last rat monster, kicking out at it even as she drew another of her ghost touch arrows. The final summoned monster was more cautious, however, skittering back from her attack and almost biting her foot, forcing her to pull her leg back sharply, the impossible move enough to unbalance anyone who attempted it with less agility than that of a slayer. Rechambering her kick, she lashed out quickly with two quick feints, high then low, before bringing her heel down on top of its head with a powerful stomp that split its skull with a deep crunch before it too faded away.

From across the room the Splatter Man finished his spell, sending out another wave of magical bolts which caught Buffy in the back, drawing a grunt of shocked pain from her lips. Kendra faired better, however, her magical shield absorbing the two sent towards her as she began to chant another spell, determination filling her face.

Buffy spun and fired her ghost touch arrow, the Splatter Man almost making it behind another wall before he was hit, the arrow striking his thigh and leaving it bleeding freely. Pulling out another ghost touch arrow, Buffy ran around the water filled pit at the center of the room as she knocked it, waiting for a shot as her foe ducked and weaved through walls as he chanted, his hands holding the small bag and the candle once again.

Before Buffy could find a good angle for her to shoot, a distortion appeared in the air in front of one of the cells as the Splatter Man cast another summoning spell, this time bringing an enormous spider, its hairy black body almost as large as a person, its spindly legs spanning nearly eight feet as it scuttled up a wall and across the ceiling, all twelve of its blazing red eyes locked on the blonde.

Buffy ignored the spider for a long moment as the ghost passed through a cell she could see into, releasing her arrow to fly across the room and pass through his stomach, leaving another gaping wound. Her distraction cost her, however, as the spider, which she had thought was too far away to attack, had used that moment to throw a web at her, wrapping around her body and pinning her arms in her firing posture, and then anchoring her to the ground.

Buffy's hazel eyes locked with glowing red as the spider scrambled across the ceiling, black venom dripping downward as it came, until, when it was close enough, it leapt so fast that it blurred through the air fang first towards the trapped slayer. Buffy had been struggling slightly, testing the webbing, but as it moved to attack she gave a great heave, throwing herself forwards, snapping sticky strands as she did. Hitting the ground and rolling painfully across sharp rubble, she forced herself to her feet, spinning into a powerful roundhouse kick which caught the spider in the side as it began to turn, sending it flying into the far wall. It bounced off of the stone, legs kicking wildly, before falling to the ground, scrambling up to its feet for another charge.

Buffy hurriedly pulled the remaining strands of webbing from her person, when she saw a flash from the corner of her eye. Cartwheeling to her left, she turned her head as she did so, in time to see four more magic bolts, these less intensely bright and not as well defined as the earlier ones, but nearly twice as large, and all flying towards her. Leaping through a somersault, she curled her body into a defensive posture as her efforts to evade proved fruitless as the four oversized missiles twisted and turned to follow her through the air, slamming painfully into her, disrupting her landing and sending her skipping across the jagged stones of the floor.

Before Buffy could recover, the spider was on top of her, caging her body with its many limbs, flashing its head downward to bite. She barely managed to get an arm up in time, her magical bracers catching the the fangs rather than her throat. Punching up to try and knock it off of her, she was dismayed when it simply swayed with the blow, straightening its legs to allow it to bleed off power from her leverageless hit, before springing back down at speed, poison fangs flashing and barely blocked once again.

Growling, Buffy reached to her side and grabbed the war razor she had taken from the evidence room, flicking it open quickly and burying the incredibly sharp weapon in the spider's abdomen, just behind its head. It twitched in pain for a moment, before screeching like a kettle as the slayer pulled downwards, slitting its entire belly open, spilling a mound of innards onto her before it twisted and distorted, vanishing as the magics keeping it summoned broke with the mortal wound. Buffy tucked her weapon away and kipped up smoothly to her feet, only to be knocked back down immediately as four more oversized blue bolts struck home, drawing a cry of pain from her lips.

Across the room Kendra fired her ray of light, but the Splatter Man ducked through a wall too quickly for her to properly react, the spell dissipating harmlessly against the stone. Grinding her teeth in frustration, she considered her options. Unlike the earlier, weaker undead they had faced, this was an opponent that she was simply too unskilled to easily hit with her cantrips, much less her crossbow. Considering her spells, she came to the unpleasant conclusion that nothing she knew, besides her disrupt undead cantrip, could directly harm a ghost. Finally, she looked at the Splatter Man's own spellbook.

Since she had begun to carry it around she had felt the spellbook weighing on her mind, overtaking her thoughts at the oddest times. She had spent some time that morning transcribing spells she hadn't known from it into her own spellbook, and when she had looked up she had thought she had seen, written in blood, her own name, but it had disappeared when she had blinked. Several more times that day she had seen her name in blood out of the corner of her eye, but it had never been there when she had looked right at it, until they had entered the Splatter Man's own room, and he had made it truly begin to appear.

It was obvious to Kendra that the Splatter Man's spellbook was strongly connected to him, but she wasn't sure how to take advantage of that fact. Throughout the fight she had noticed that he had paid close attention to her even though Buffy, with her magic arrows, was the primary threat, and he had avoided sending any of his summons to attack her. Seizing upon a moment of wild inspiration, she grabbed the pages containing the first spell in the book, and simply tore it to shreds.

After falling to the ground again, Buffy hadn't wasted a moment and had instantly bounced back to her feet, raising her bow and pulling out her final ghost touch arrow as she did. The Splatter Man stayed out of sight, however, and a moment later another disruption in the air signalled the summoning of a second giant spider. Gritting her teeth, she began to move around the room, her magical boots allowing her to drift lightly over the broken rubble without even the slightest loss of stability while she avoided the spider and sought out its summoner.

From the corner of her eye Buffy saw Kendra holding the Splatter Man's moldy spellbook, before grabbing and tearing some of its pages apart. The ghost howled in outrage, drifting into the open for the first time in a while, a deep wound across its chest that had not existed a moment before. Buffy didn't hesitate even for a moment, firing her arrow as he tried to dodge, leaving a large, bloody wound through both of his calves as the arrow passed through one leg and then the other.

Before Buffy could do anything else she dove into a roll from sheer instinct as a second giant spider, whose summoning she had missed, leapt at her back, missing her by inches. Rolling to her feet, Buffy reached into her bag and pulled out her new longsword as the the other spider took advantage of her distraction to leap at her, fangs gnashing. Buffy stepped forward, rising a foot as she balanced on a broken support, swinging her sword with a flourish as the monster flew past her. It screeched as it stumbled, two of its legs landing on the ground next it it in a spray of ichor. Before she could finish it, however, the other spider attacked, forcing her to retreat, her long blade scoring shallow hits as she kept it at bay.

Kendra, seeing the effect the damaged pages had had on the ghost, grabbed another spell and tore it to shreds, eliciting another scream and opening a huge wound down its side. Furious, the ghost waved its arms vigorously as it shouted a spell, ending by pushing its hand towards Kendra as though shoving something invisible at her. From the corner of her eye Buffy could see a ripple in the air that sped towards Kendra, striking her magical shielding and tearing it apart, ripping her defensive spell to pieces. He then immediately chanted another spell, a blue orb gathering on his finger before bursting into four glowing arrows, these smaller and less bright than the previous ones, although all four struck Kendra squarely as she tore another part of the spell book to pieces. Both wizards, living and dead, screamed and stumbled back, spraying blood.

“Kendra!” Buffy shouted as her friend swayed unsteadily on her feet. Any attempts to help her were swiftly thwarted as the two spiders attacked again and again, coordinating their movements to force Buffy onto the defensive, her sword nearly invisible in the air as she swung it in front and behind of her with every bit of her speed to keep both poisonous enemies at bay.

Kendra pushed past the pain as she stumbled, nearly tripping over a piece of fallen masonry before she righted herself, grabbing her necklace and beginning to chant again. Holding her hand in front of her as she recast her shield spell, the nearly invisible disc forming just in time to catch another batch of blue missiles, her defense drawing an outraged scream from the Splatter Man.

“Why won't you just die!” he shouted, waving a hand at the pit. From its depths a longsword swiftly rose, tossing its sheath aside and pointing its gleaming length at Kendra. Waving his hand, he sent the blade shooting through the air at her like a missile. Stumbling sideways, Kendra tripped over a rock and hit the ground, her magical shield barely deflecting the weapon enough to save her from being skewered. The blade continued its path, hitting the wall and not even slowing until it had sunk up it its hilt in the stone.

“I'd tell you to drop dead, but you already are,” Buffy called, trying to gain his attention even as she chopped off a fang of one of the spiders when it became too aggressive.

“I will kill you both! Then the woman will die again, and then all of Ravengro will burn! I will have my revenge, and all shall burn! Fire will rain from the sky! Every—AHHHH!!!”

Kendra grabbed the next pages, tearing them to shreds as she stumbled to her feet, the damage opening a gash the entire length of the Splatter Man's left leg. Snarling, he gestured again, and a dagger made from a strange silvery white metal rose up from the flooded oubliette and flew towards Kendra. Seeing it coming she held up the spellbook, the blade sinking up to its hilt in the leather tome, drawing an outraged howl from the undead wizard.

Buffy finally saw an opening, backflipping over the spider behind her when it overcommitted with an attack, her blade opening up its back, before following up with a deep thrust as she touched the ground. The spider shrieked and twisted into nothingness, leaving her standing with her weapon outstretched as the remaining creature jumped at her. Lifting her blade, she skewered it right between its eyes, spraying her face with thick ichor even as it too faded away.

Reaching for her side, Buffy dropped her longsword and pulled out one of her only two undead bane arrows. Not even bothering with her bow now that the ghost was so distracted, she simply pulled back her arm and threw it like a dart, the magical arrow flying straight and true, taking him in the shoulder. While the normal magical arrow had inflicted a small injury, and the ghost touch arrows had damaged it more significantly still, the effect of the bane arrow was shocking. Instead of merely punching a hole in his body, the wound opened up wider and wider after impact, until, by the time the arrow stuck in the wall behind the ghost, the injury was so large that his right arm simply fell off, dispersing into blue smoke before it hit the ground.

The Splatter Man screeched in anguish, its body a terrible wreck which would have died long ago if it were not already deceased. Numerous arrow wounds littered its flesh, large enough to see through, and huge gashes decorated it from Kendra's efforts. One arm was now missing, and it had bled so much that its entire body was soaked with the blue fluid. Reeling and maddened from agony, it could do nothing as Kendra pulled the knife from the book and used it to shred the remaining pages.

The pitch of its screams rose higher and higher as new cuts appeared all over its body. The many wounds began to glow with a white light, and cracks began to spread slowly outward from the injuries. Soon the entire body was a patchwork of jagged fissures, glowing with white light, until, with a deafening bang, it burst into pieces, the parts floating about like scraps of a shattered balloon before dissipating into wisps of blue smoke.

All was silent, for a long moment, until finally Buffy met Kendra's eyes and she smirked tiredly. “Well, that wasn't so bad.”

“Not so bad?” Kendra asked incredulously.

“Yup, no one died. Plus: no syphilis, or giant bears, or possessed murder attempts, or freaky romps that will never be spoken of again. So: not bad.”

“That's gloomy enough to make me rethink this whole monster fighting business,” Kendra said ruefully as she sat tiredly down on a large stone.

Buffy smirked and made her way over, sitting in front of her on the ground with a groan. “You did good.”

“I didn't do very much,” Kendra said, pulling out medical supplies. Buffy stopped her hands, meeting her eyes levelly.

“You did great. I couldn't have done all this without you. Especially the shred the book thingy. I never would have taken you for the book burning type. Giles would have had a coronary.” Buffy smiled wistfully as they began to clean and bandage their many wounds.

“Well, I had already copied all of the spells that it had contained into my own spellbook, so really, it was just a useless cursed book at that point. Even so, I could almost feel my father glaring at me when I tore it.”

“Yeah, if Petros and Giles had ever met they would have been two tweedy peas in a very Brit-like pod.”

It took some time, but finally both were bandaged and had downed several healing potions apiece, the warm magics knitting their many wounds, leaving them tired and sore, but no longer seriously injured. While Buffy waited for Kendra to rest, she walked over to the wall and examined the sword lodged to the hilt in the rock.

Pulling the sword from the stone, she was awed at how easily it slipped out, and how perfectly it fit her hand once she held it. The hilt was cross shaped and made of silver, intricately worked to appear as immaculate angel wings spreading over her hand as she held it aloft. The pommel had a perfectly round star sapphire which caught the light, seemingly gripped by feminine hands of silver that wrapped around it as though holding a cherished child. The blade was an extremely slender twenty-nine inches of double edged steel, still so finely polished so as to work as a mirror despite more than half a century in the murky water at the bottom of the oubliette. Everything about the weapon felt right in her hand, from the excited tingle in her fingers when she first touched it, to the way it seemed to sing in the air as she swung it about; Buffy knew that she had never beheld a more perfect weapon.

Walking across the room, she stopped next to where its sheath lay in a shallow pool of water. Looking from her new blade to a large rock, she considered for a moment. Shrugging, she swung the blade down at the stone, ignoring years of lectures from Giles about the proper care of weapons, especially the many lecture about what not to hit with expensive weapons.

The rock parted before her blade with as little resistance as if it were made of butter rather than solid stone. Examining the impossibly clean cut she had left behind, Buffy grinned. “Neat.”

“Neat?” Kendra asked incredulously. “It cut stone like it was nothing, and all that you can say is 'Neat'?”

Buffy shrugged, picking up the sheath and sliding the blade home. It was made of the same white leather as the wrap on the hilt, and it had tiny pictures of female angels wearing long gowns and holding swords all down its length done in silver thread. “I like it. Very shiny”

“Shiny,” Kendra echoed flatly.

“Yup. You know, shiny is a good word. I've already got my best stake, Mr. Pointy, and of course my horse is Mr. Gordo...”

“You named your horse Mr. Gordo?”

“So I think I should call my sword Mr. Shiny.”

“Pharasma give me strength,” Kendra prayed, covering her eyes.

“What about your dagger?” Buffy asked curiously, peering at the weapon. The silvery white metal was unfamiliar, although it was obviously a very fine weapon, with a thin, straight blade, and a round hilt covered in a design like golden flower petals that made it look like the blade grew from a sunflower.

“It's made of mithral, and has some enchantments on it, although less impressive ones than your new sword,” Kendra answered.

“Cool. If I had a spec of clueage as to what that was I bet I would be completely thrilled.”

“Its a very rare metal which makes superb weapons and armor.”

“Like I said: cool.”

“Yes. 'Cool'. And being _my_ new dagger, it will not have a name.”

“No name!” Buffy asked, aghast. “Come on. Cool stuff always needs a good name. How about Mr. Flower.”

“No.”

“Mr. Stabby?”

“Certainly not.”

Buffy put her war razor away in her bag of holding, and attached her sword sheath to her belt in its place, adjusting the long weapon to sit comfortably despite her modest height. The two women then retraced their steps to the hole that they had climbed down through, bickering good-naturedly as they went about what to call the dagger. When they reached the entrance, Kendra smiled and pulled her magic rope out, holding one end. “Up. Attach. Knot.” The rope rose on its own to the ceiling of the room above, tying itself around a support beam, and then tying itself into knots all the way down its length so that it would be easier to climb. Once they had both made it up Kendra returned the rope to its tight coil, and Buffy put her own rope, which she had left hanging, into her bag of holding.

“Mr. Rope is pretty nifty.”

Kendra twitched. “It is not called Mr. Rope.”

Buffy just pouted as they made their way through the prison. “Spoilsport.”

 

* * *

 

The workshop was just as they had left it, and upon entering Vesorianna manifested once more. “I have felt many spirits being defeated, some even being laid to rest entirely. The five have been dissipated, although they will soon reform.”

Buffy nodded, pulling the badge of office she had found in the torture chamber from her bag of holding. “Yup. We made with the redeadening.”

“You found my husband's badge. With that, I can symbolically attain his authority over this place. With the prisoners laid low, I will have the power to cleanse Harrowstone once and for all.”

Buffy handed it over, the ghost somehow holding the metal disc despite her incorporeal nature. She straightened up, her posture somehow more dignified than before, and then she began to glow. First her eyes, then her entire body, began to emit a white light, which then spread outward, covering the walls, and then the entirety of the prison grounds. A cool, soothing sensation washed over both living women as they stood, and before long they were forced to cover their eyes as the light became too bright to see. The air itself seemed to ring like a bell, yet their ears heard no sounds. A sense of anticipation grew, and the air tasted as charged as before a thunderstorm.

Then, just as the tension reached its peak, a tiny voice whispered, “thank you,” and all became still. With a clink, the badge of office fell to the ground, still glowing faintly white for several seconds after everything else returned to normal. Blinking to clear dazed tears from her eyes, Buffy was overwhelmed by the _lack_ of overpowering malignancy from her slayer senses.

Kendra walked over to the badge and picked it up, frowning slightly. “I think I will have to examine this in more detail later, but I believe this disc has attained some significant power, having been used as a focus for such a tremendous supernatural event.”

“You can do what you want, I'm not going to hit a book for at least a week. I'm just going to kick back and get my rest on.”

Kendra tucked the metal disc in a belt pouch, and the two women slowly walked out of the prison in thoughtful silence. Stepping outside into the fresh air, Buffy took a deep breath, reveling in the sense of a job well done. They had saved Ravengro. Too bad there was no Bronzing to be done.

Looking up at the stars of early evening as they walked, Buffy finally looked at her friend. “So, how was your first adventure?”

“Exhausting,” Kendra answered with a small smile.

“Yeah. Besides sleep and hitting the books, what do you plan to do?”

“Well, I intend to find a way to travel to your dimension.”

“Thanks. But what about after that? Are you gonna sell your home and travel?”

“Well, I have been giving it quite a bit of thought...”

Buffy suddenly felt a powerful sensation kicking her in the spidey-sense like Glorificus to her solar plexus, the previous transition from Hellmouth-level supernatural hotspot to nothing having blinded her slayer senses until too late. She knew that she had no time to react, so she simply shoved Kendra hard. Then it hit. Pain. Fire. Pain. Impact. Pain. Flying through the air. Pain. Darkness...

**Author's Notes**  
This is the final part of the prison sequence in the Haunting of Harrowstone. Kendra uses her disrupt undead cantrip as well as the shield spell, recasting it via her arcane bond amulet. The Splatter Man is a powerful wizard, although he is missing his spellbook and therefore has a limited selection of spells to call upon. The very bright attack was a maximized magic missile, the large ones were empowered magic missiles, and the rest were normal magic missiles. He summoned the pack of fiendish dire rats with an empowered summon monster II, and the fiendish giant spiders with normal summon monster IIs – he's a fan of metamagic feats. He used dispel magic to take down Kendra's shield so that she was vulnerable to magic missile fire. Finally, he threw the sword (a +1 keen longsword) and the dagger (a +1 mithral dagger) with his hand of the apprentice class power (from being a generalist wizard). All of that, and he still had a Summon Monster II, four magic missiles, and six uses of hand of the apprentice available! Moral of the story: wizards are scary and complex to write.

That was the biggest battle I have ever written. It actually took me three sittings to write it, and then more time editing it. I hope it was as fun to read as it was hard to write! Also, as is my preferred idiom, after a cliffhanger that evil I feel a need for a good, cleansing maniacal laugh: Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**The Source of the Darkness**

 

Pain. It was the first thing that she noticed as she bounced along the dirt, the impacts jolting her awake. Terrible, overwhelming pain. Forcing her eyes open with nothing but willpower Buffy desperately focused on her surroundings. She quickly found the source of her pain. She was on fire. It explained a lot really. Such as the excruciating, burning pain.

Buffy took control of her roll, gritting her teeth to ignore the agony as she rolled over and over to smother the flames. Keeping her momentum, she rolled right up onto her feet, taking stock of her condition as she did. For a moment, the tiny part of her that was just Buffy and not the slayer really wished that she hadn't.

Her right arm was simply ruined. It was black everywhere, except where the skin had cracked to reveal the white of bone. If she were in Sunnydale, she would guess, even with slayer healing, that she would lose her arm. Whether her last few healing potions could save her limb, Buffy had no idea, and no time to contemplate it either. Forcing her tearing eyes to blink clear, she finished her quick examination, relieved that none of her other burns were nearly as serious, and that she had at least put out the flames.

Looking up, Buffy saw the source of her injury. Standing on the wall near the gates was a woman wearing a hooded cloak, obscuring all of her features, her pale hand held out towards the slayer, still smoking. Coming through the gate were a three men, four women, and two children, all with pale skin and glowing red eyes. A circle of dirt between herself and her foes had been scoured clean by the fire magic that had burned her, and scrambling to her feet at the edge of it was a slightly singed Kendra, who stumbled backwards until she was slightly behind Buffy, her strangled gasp letting the slayer know that her friend had seen her arm.

Buffy stood still for a long moment, taking deep, even breaths, calling up everything that Giles had ever taught her about pain management, and every piece of bitter experience more than six years as the slayer had given her, until finally she forced her sluggish mind to ignore her arm, letting her think clearly. It only took her moments to realize what was happening. “Annika,” she said, her voice perfectly flat.

On the wall, the beautiful vampire pushed back her hood, revealing a perfect grin ruined by her long fangs. “Buffy. I said that we would meet again.”

“Yeah. And I said when I found you I would rip out your ribcage with my bare hands.”

Annika laughed throatily. “There's the savage that I remember! Although I think you will find that you only have one hand now.”

Buffy paused, her mind desperate to scream and gibber for a moment until she forcibly suppressed her horror. She was the slayer. Her arm would be fine. She would slay. End of story. “You killed Petros.”

Kendra stiffened in shock, her eyes wide at the revelation. “She...”

“Oh yes,” Annika answered grinning. “I considered turning him, but I didn't want you to be ready for me. After your performance that day, I decided that it would be far better to be somewhat less obvious with how I baited my trap.”

“You did something to the Warden's ghost.”

“That was inspired, even if I do say so myself. By removing his spirit, I knew that the inmates would eventually overrun the town. I followed your career very closely after our encounter, and I knew that, with Ravengro in danger, you would dive right in and wear yourself out.”

Buffy nodded, her face carved from stone. “And your minions?”

“I had enough eyes and ears in town to know when you were getting close to venturing forth to the prison. I simply turned a few farmsteads so that I would have enough support to bring you down. You should be honored that I went to this much trouble just to get my revenge.”

“I'm feeling something. It's not honored.”

She chuckled. “I remember what that was like. That righteous fire to destroy evil. We truly are far more alike than you can imagine. Let us avoid this unnecessary unpleasantness. You are gravely wounded, and even if you were not, you are exhausted from your efforts clearing Harrowstone. I have all of the advantages. If you surrender, I will give you immortality. If you do not, I will simply hurt you first.”

“If we're really so alike, you know my answer.”

“Yes,” Annika said, her voice almost wistful. “I suppose I do.”

Buffy slowly drew her new sword, the motion awkward as she was forced to use her left hand, the side that it was sheathed on. “Run,” she said quietly, not taking her eyes off of the vampires for an instant.

“What?” Kendra sputtered, shocked.

“You promised to do what I said. Run.”

“I won't leave you alone to die.”

“I don't plan to die again. But I can't protect you from this many at once. They can slip past me and get their kill on with you.”

“'I don't want to leave you. You're my friend... and she killed my father.”

“If you don't, they can just take you hostage and we'd both be screwed.”

“I have an idea that could help.”

“Fine. But if you get killed, don't come crying to me.”

Buffy slowly stepped forwards, her eyes locked with Annika's glowing orbs. Once she was halfway between the vampires and Kendra, the glow intensified, filling her sight, trying to invade her mind.

“No,” Buffy said, her voice as hard as steel. The red glow receded, pushed back by her iron will. “This won't be like last time. No drugs. No surprises. I know what you are. I know who I am. I'm the slayer. You're the slayee. That's the way this is gonna end.”

Annika snarled, her beautiful face not transforming like the vampires from Buffy's own dimension, but the sheer malignancy of her nature was still obvious from her expression, her genteel veneer stripped away by her inhuman malice. “I'm going to enjoy breaking you. Your screams will be my music for centuries.”

“Ooh, scary words from the dead girl that's about to get a whole lot deader. Remind me shiver later.”

“Kill her!” Annika shrieked, her red eyes burning with insane hatred, before she visibly brought herself back under control. Sneering, she began to chant a spell, her fingers moving with deadly grace as she built her magics.

The nine weaker vampires, only days old, charged forward, slavering like rabid dogs let slip from their leashes. Buffy gripped her new sword with her working left hand, bringing the perfectly balanced blade in front of her in a classic guard position. She knew that Kendra was vulnerable behind her, and so she had to rely upon a tried and tested strategy that she always used while patrolling with others; if the slayer made herself a big enough target, then no one would take the time to attack her friends.

Buffy stepped forward to meet the pack of vampires. The first to arrive was a middle aged man with a large paunch and heavy, thick fingered hands. He lashed out blindly with his limbs, snarling and spitting as he attacked. Buffy flicked her blade casually, its magically sharp edge cleaving flesh and bone with ease, the vampire's arm flying away from the melee from the elbow down, blood spraying freely. Swiftly reversing her swing, Buffy chopped off his other hand as well.

The handless vampire snarled and swung its left arm at her again, its expression transforming from hungry to stupefied as it finally noticed that it was missing half of its limb, the undead nerves severed so cleanly by her sword that they hadn't even registered the hit. Buffy locked eyes with his confused gaze for only a moment before she severed his head from his shoulders, turning him into a cloud of mist that flew away to the north, towards Ravengro.

Returning her eyes to the remaining vampires, she stiffened, as everything seemed to slow down as she locked gazes with her next foe. Striding towards her without a care in the world was a black haired version of herself. She had red glowing eyes and black veins visible under her porcelain skin. When they met gazes her copy sneered contemptuously, revealing small fangs.

“What... how...” Buffy stuttered, her sword wavering.

“Hello, me. I forgot just how stupid I used to be.”

“If you're supposed to be vampire me, at last you aren't as skanky as vamp Willow,” Buffy said, her eyes roaming the battlefield. Everything had seemingly come to a stand still, the vampires charging at her barely moving, Annika pointing at her with a look of gleeful hate on her pale features. Turning her head, she saw Kendra chanting and spreading silver dust around herself in a loose circle, all falling so slowly that she could count the individual grains of precious metal as they fell to the grass. “Whoa. Trippy.”

“What can I say. Even dead, we really are still pretty,” her double said, looking down at her outfit, which was a twin of Buffy's own, except all in crimson. “And we were made for red leather,” she said, running a hand down her hip.

“Okay, kinda skanky. And really, are you trying to pull off the seductive thing on yourself? 'Cause that's just weird.”

“I always did like to joke. As long as I'm quipping, nothing's wrong. Well, except me. Everything about me is wrong.”

“You can say that again,” Buffy said. “You're a vamp.”

“Not just that,” she answered, grinning cruelly. “I was wrong way before Annika changed me. Do you really think that all you got from being torn out of Heaven by black magic was a suntan? You might like denial, but even you aren't that blonde.”

“Shut up,” Buffy said, tightening her grip on her sword.

“Ooh, struck a nerve? We both know that whatever clawed its way out of that grave wasn't what our so called friends put into it. The freak show we put on with Spike, neglecting Dawn, ignoring our friends. We were already a monster even before I was turned. Hell, Willow's little dark magic trip? Do you really think she could have done that if you hadn't just left your 'big gun' all alone when she needed you the most?”

“She killed Dawn!” Buffy shouted, forcing herself not to step back.

“Awful defensive their Buff. Afraid of the truth? You let her go bad. Dawnie's blood is on your hands. Not that its so bad. I mean, god, was she whiny! Now that she's all power having, though? How do you think I got so strong? After I drained Annika, I called up my sweet outer god of a little sis, and she topped me off with the good stuff. I have more power in my pinky that Darth Willow had in her whole magic addicted body.”

“No...” Buffy choked.

“Yes. We've been monsters for a very long time. Embrace it. It feels so _good_ to be bad.”

Buffy looked around desperately, wanting to look at anything but her evil mirror. The vampires had barely advanced two feet from where she had last seen them, and Kendra was still casting her spell. Looking up, she saw Annika was still pointing at her. Then, like a bolt from the blue, her eyes widened, as everything suddenly made sense.

“Wait. Why would you be here?”

“My power is beyond anything you can imagine. I used Dawnie's little gift to travel through time. I was curious what it was like, when I was turned.”

“Please,” Buffy said, rolling her eyes. “I'm not that blonde. Annika casts a spell, then everything slows down and you show up, telling me this stuff? You are not real. I am _not_ a monster.”

Sneering, the illusion of herself faded away, and everything sped up again. Buffy tightened her grip on her sword, baring her teeth at her foes. As the next to reach her, an older woman wearing a blue floor length skirt and a white peasant blouse, attacked, Buffy wasted no time on finesse, simply swinging her blade with every bit of power she could, her sword cleaving her foe in two, both halves tumbling past her before turning to mist. Spinning, Buffy swung her sword in a blinding arc, the weapon taking off two heads with a single stroke.

“Okay, _now_ I'm pissed,” Buffy said, strolling to the first of the child vampires. It looked up at her with an innocent expression on its face, although the lie was made obvious by its hateful, glowing red eyes. Buffy barely blinked as she removed his head, turning him to mist. “More mind games? Is that the best you've got?”

In reply Annika held her right hand out in front of her, cupped as though she had something in it as she began to chant. A tiny spark appeared in her hand, which grew into a sphere of flame a little over an inch in diameter. Pulling back her hand, she through the small ball of flame at Buffy. The other vampires had all glanced at her preparations and then scattered, running away as fast as they could. Buffy was no fool, taking that as a sign as she immediately put her slayer quickness to the test.

The ball of flame flew with remarkable speed, and even sprinting Buffy didn't manage to completely clear the blast zone before it detonated, the fire blooming into a massive spherical blaze that torched the grass in a perfect circle. Buffy dove at the last moment, avoiding serious injury, turning the maneuver into a tumbling roll to put out the superficial flames the edge of the blast had started in her clothing. Gathering herself, she spent a long moment suppressing the agony jostling her right arm had put her in, before kipping to her feet, her sword raised defensively.

Buffy glanced around the battlefield, her experienced eyes sizing up the situation in moments. Annika had begun chanting once again, both of her hands held out straight, making small gestures while she built her spell. Kendra was working on another spell of her own, a wooden disc held in one hand while she gestured and incanted. The other vampires were slowly circling the slayer, waiting for an opening to attack.

Rather than wait and see what else Annika had up her sleeve, Buffy suddenly charged forward, the abruptness of her action taking one of the female vampires completely off guard. She was an overweight woman dressed in a cheap brown dress, her pudgy hands held like claws as she readied herself for Buffy's attack. Buffy kept an eye on Annika as well, and, when she pointed both palms in her direction, the slayer dove into a forward roll, tumbling to her feet just past the shocked vampire, twin lines of flame passing through the empty air where she had started her dive. Turning to face the last male vampire, she simply ignored the woman she had left behind. When the vampire tried to turn to pursue she slid in half, her upper body unconnected to her lower, before both halves turned into mist.

Kendra had not been idle, her first casting having been her most powerful protective spell, its magic able to hinder even the power of a vampire, including her ability to control Kendra's mind. Finishing that, she had pulled out her wooden disc which she had painted with concentric rings. Having cast her second spell, true strike, she could see probabilities unfolding before her. Looking at the vampire, she was shocked at how capable she was of defending herself. She was a blur of possibilities, attempts to strike her likely to be stymied by a combination of unholy speed and centuries of experience. Fortunately, her magics would give her the edge that she would need.

Pulling out a wooden dart and wrapping it with a rhubarb leaf and the dried stomach of an adder, Kendra cast her next spell, her concentration on her opponent absolute. The dart began to glow green, and with a throwing motion she launched her attack, the glow transforming into a rough arrow which sped through the air towards the powerful vampire sorceress. As her true strike spell had shown her, the vampire was incredibly skilled, easily noticing the incoming magic and casually beginning to dodge. Fortunately, she acted exactly as Kendra's magics had predicted, her motion putting her into the deceptively angled path of the acid arrow spell.

Annika howled in pain and outrage as the glowing green magic struck her stomach, spreading outward for a moment before transforming into a powerful acid, eating away at her. She screeched and staggered, kicking at the stone wall she stood upon, her vampiric strength shattering the rock. Finally, after long seconds the acid stopped burning, and she straightened up, the gaping wound exposed. Even from her distance, Kendra could see her damaged internal organs, as well as the bottom of her ribcage. The vampire locked gazes with her, the red glow of her eyes filling the diviner's vision for a moment, before it simply slid off of her, repelled by the defensive spell she had cast at the beginning of the fight.

The remaining three vampires, an older man with a bushy mustache, a small woman with long brown hair, and a girl of eight who was obviously their daughter, circled Buffy warily. They had seen her cut through two thirds of their company with contemptuous ease, and so they had avoided pressing combat with her. Having been a family before they had been turned, they still worked together well, the adults darting in and out, their irregular attacks, while unskilled, were fast and coordinated enough to keep her from inflicting more than scratches to them. Whenever she sought to press the attack, the child, who stayed behind her, would jump in, forcing her to back off to defend herself.

The vampires had been more surprised than Buffy when Annika had started to scream, and Buffy had taken advantage of that to remove one of the mother's hands before she had been forced to back off once more. Annika in her rage was nearly foaming at the mouth, and she began to cast another spell, her attention focused on Kendra. “You know, if you back off right now, I won't be forced to do stuff you won't unlive to regret,” Buffy said with forced calm, as she looked for a way around her attackers to stop the vampire sorceress.

“Ah, we just wanna play!” the child vampire cooed, her voice sweet as she jumped at Buffy's back, fangs bared, only to be met by a back kick which sent her flying.

Kendra immediately recognized the spell the angry vampire had begun casting. She had seen it used on Buffy just a few moments before, and she had identified it as the powerful spell called phantasmal killer, which used illusions of ones greatest fear to cause death. It was also most likely the spell that was used to kill her father, since the vampire had shown a propensity for fireballs and other flashy magics, instead of those which used which slew without leaving a mark. Unwilling to risk her protective magics ability to aid her against such a powerful attack, she immediately began to cast her own spell in response.

Kendra finished her casting first by a fraction of a second, pushing her hand forward as though shoving something invisible at the vampire, her motion releasing a nearly invisible magical shockwave which met the forming killing spell before it could completely coalesce. The magics contested for a moment, but in the end Kendra's dispel succeeded, the nearly formed structure of the phantasmal killer breaking down, the magic falling to pieces. She had learned to do that from the Splatter Man's spellbook that morning, and she found it to be far more satisfying to do, compared to when he had used it to strip away her shield spell.

“Get her!” Annika shouted, pointing at Kendra before turning her attention back to Buffy, waving her hands as she cast another spell. Her finger began to glow red, before four bolts of energy flew from her and streaked unerringly towards Buffy, striking her in the side while she chopped an arm off of the last male vampire, the pain distracting her and stopping her from going in for the kill. Buffy swung her sword in a blind arc, the move forcing the child vampire to stop her attack or risk being beheaded, buying her time to recover and defend herself.

The mother vampire had slipped away from Buffy when Annika gave her order, and she ran towards Kendra with a hungry snarl on her face. Seeing the threat, the diviner pulled a leather loop from a pouch and chanted quietly, waving it up and down as she did. Before the vampire could reach her she left the ground, floating straight up into the air, swiftly leaving her enemy's reach by dozens of feet.

Annika repeated her spell while Buffy, no longer facing three opponents, twisted suddenly and charged the tiny vampire, thrusting quickly, taking her through the heart. Buffy grunted and stumbled into the child's mist as it discorporated, four red missiles striking her in the back before she could recover. Spinning, she swung her blade wildly, her attack opening up a deep cut on the male vampire, although he leapt back too quickly for her to finish it off. She pursued, but he kept his distance, staying close enough to keep her from ignoring him and going after Annika, but far enough away that she couldn't slay him.

The vampire sorceress sneered at Kendra as she prepared her crossbow, quickly performing her own dispel, her magic breaking the diviner's levitation spell, sending her plummeting to the earth. Before she had fallen more than ten feet, however, Kendra spoke a single word of power, her descent arrested as she began to drift to the ground at a painfully slow rate. Raising her crossbow, she fired one of the magical bolts that she had found in the guard captain's office, but Annika knocked it out of the air when it reached her with a contemptuous flick of her wrist.

Buffy noticed Kendra's slow descent towards the vampire waiting for her on the ground and used the traction her magical boots gave her to abruptly change directions, charging towards the mother vampire, who barely had time to turn her head before it was separated from her shoulders. Stopping her run by planting her right foot before her, she pivoted and swung backwards with her blade in a single motion, disemboweling the last vampire minion, turning him into mist as he hit the ground.

Looking up, Buffy dove to the dirt, grunting in pain as she narrowly avoided another line of fire from Annika. Unfortunately, the vampire had not only targeted her, as Kendra shrieked in pain as the flames burned her side, setting her dress ablaze. Jumping up to grab her friend, they both shouted in pain as the slayer wrapped her body around the diviner's side, smothering the flames but aggravating both of their burns. Hitting the ground, Kendra's eyes were glazed and she was losing consciousness as Buffy stood over her. Looking up, she focused her glare on the vampire, who smirked at her from the wall.

“No one else left,” Buffy said, slowly stalking towards her foe. “Just you and me.”

“This has been coming for a long time,” Annika agreed. “However, the stage needs one more thing to be properly set.” She reached into her dress and pulled out three small vials. “Don't come any closer.”

“Or what? You'll try to kill me?”

“No. I will kill your little friend. I have time enough to throw another fireball before you reach me, which is something that she would not survive.” Buffy stopped, glaring at the vampire. “Good girl. You can be taught. I am impressed, though. You two managed to clear Harrowstone, and still had the strength to kill my minions.”

“Guess they just don't make minions like they used to,” Buffy said, her tone light but her eyes screaming murder. “Or at least you don't.”

“Charming as always. Now then, I anticipated that you could accomplish this, and so I came prepared. I have three potions which will give me the edge I need. Your skill is truly remarkable, and so to give me the advantage I procured a portion of heroism from a wizard I dined with.” Showing her fangs as she grinned she downed the first potion, tossing the glass vial over her shoulder when she did.

“Hey, no fair taking a water break without letting me. And isn't that doping?” Buffy pouted as she considered her options. Kendra was immobile and too far away to protect, and after watching Annika bat away a crossbow bolt, she had no intention to throw her last undead bane arrow.

“If you promise to be a good girl and let me drain you once I beat you, you can have your last mortal drink. After this, you'll get nothing but blood.”

Buffy reached into her bag of holding, fumbling around awkwardly with her left hand after planting her sword in the ground, coming out with her last two healing potions.

“This,” Annika continued, holding up another vial, “is a potion of haste. You are faster than I, or,” she paused, drinking it, “you were.”

“I don't need to do drugs to beat you, so I'll stick with medicine,” Buffy said drinking them, both. She felt the the soothing warmth of the magic fill her body, heating up her many wounds as it tried to heal her. Concentrating, she grit her teeth against the pain as she managed to twitch a finger on her right hand, the burned flesh cracking slightly as she did.

“Finally, you have strength greater than any vampire, and with this potion, so do I,” she said, drinking the final vial. Tossing her cloak aside, she reached behind her back and pulled out a heavy mace. It was over two feet long, the haft made of solid iron wrapped with black leather, and its head was a round ball with thirteen short flanges protruding from it. Holding the weapon up for a moment, she then swung it down, the blow shaking the ground, causing the section of wall she stood upon to collapse entirely. As she landed on the grass she continued unfazed, “and this I took from a foolish priestess of Besmara. It is a Mace of Terror, called Strifebringer.”

Buffy held up her own sword. “This sword was thrown at my friend by a ghost, after sitting in a pool of stagnant water for fifty years. I call it... Mr. Shiny.”

Annika's jaw dropped in shock. “Mr. Shiny!! No. That's just stupid.”

“My sword, and I named it Mr. Shiny.”

“Just for that, I'm going to beat your bones into powder before I turn you. Hopefully, with a few centuries of work I can knock the rest of the stupid from your empty head!”

Buffy pouted, “meanie.”

Howling in outrage, Annika charged, missing Buffy's sly grin at having successfully provoked her foe into attacking blindly. Even with the healing potions, she knew that she was seriously wounded, and would need every edge she could get to win.

Buffy barely got her sword up in time to block the vampire's first blow, her speed so great that she missed the follow up, the weapon crashing into her stomach so hard that she flew backwards, the air driven from her lungs, her vision dimming. Gasping for breath as she hit the ground, she barely raised her sword in time to block the next blow, the flat of her blade slamming into her chest with bruising force as she was unable to stop the attack completely.

Annika gripped her weapon with both hands, raising the mace as Buffy rolled to the side, barely escaping the earth shaking hit, rolling back the other way a moment later to dodge the followup, suddenly feeling far greater empathy for the targets of games of whack-a-mole. Flexing her entire body, she kicked both feet into the vampire's thighs, causing her to stumble back, before she flipped to a standing position in a single motion.

Whipping around, Buffy swung her sword with her turn, but found her attack blocked by the mace. Jumping back, she was forced completely on the defensive, giving ground steadily as her opponent laughed while swinging her weapon nearly invisibly fast. If she hadn't fought Glory she would have been completely overwhelmed, but even with her magic potions, Annika wasn't in the hell goddess' league in speed or strength, and after a few moments Buffy took her measure. She couldn't counter, but she could defend herself and wait for her less skilled opponent to make a mistake.

Buffy was soon bathed in sweat, unable to wipe her face while being constantly pressed with only one fully functional arm. As she gasped for breath, her left hand going numb from the ringing impacts of parrying her foe again and again, she was relieved to see the vampire slowing down. Drifting back an extra step to dodge her next attack by a hairsbreadth, Buffy lunged into her opponent's guard, her blow opening up the vampire's side deeply enough to expose more of her ribcage. The vampire jumped back, hissing in pain.

“Cheaters... never... prosper...” Buffy gasped, her sword unwavering despite her exhaustion. “Your potion... wore off.”

“Potions of haste don't last very long. But you won't last much longer.” Annika growled, before holding up her mace. “Strifebringer, subdue!” Before Buffy's eyes Annika transformed. She seemed to loom larger and larger, a malignant being of pure shadow that towered over everything. The very grass seemed to wilt under her odious presence, and all of creation held its breath in fear as she stepped forward. Buffy froze, overwhelmed by the sheer menace exuded by the vampire, her reactions slowed just enough for her to be nearly helpless for a crucial instant.

Buffy tried to defend herself, stumbling back and raising her blade, but she wasn't fast enough, the mace clipping her hand, the glancing hit numbing her fingers, knocking the sword from her grip. As Buffy blinked, her opponent returned to normal, the aura of doom that she had exuded no more, but it was already too late. Annika swung her mace again, hitting Buffy's chin despite her attempt to dodge, the blow rattling her teeth and filling her mouth with blood, causing her to see stars.

Buffy screamed a moment later as Annika dropped the mace, grabbing her left arm with a crushing grip and digging her sharp fingers into Buffy's other side, her index finger wrapping around one of Buffy's ribs to hold her in place. A cold, numbing sensation swept over Buffy's body as the vampire drained her life force with her cruel grip, as she slowly leaned down, licking Buffy's neck. “I win,” she said triumphantly.

Buffy spat at the vampire, her bloody spit striking her cheek. “A savage to the end,” the vampire snarled, biting her throat. She began to drink.

Buffy's life passed before her eyes. She had fought many enemies, saving lives and even the world on numerous occasions. She had done it all with friends by her side, and she missed them terribly as her life began to fade. Her sister, Dawn, who she had died for. Her mother, who had passed too soon. Xander, the brother she never had. Giles, her second father. Angel, her first love. Spike, the pain in her ass, but still one of hers. Tara, who was always ready to listen. Anya, who could make a sailor blush. Kendra, her newest friend, who she had just gotten close to. And Willow. Her best friend. As she stood, dying, she acknowledged that despite everything, she missed her Wills.

She didn't want to die. It was almost a surprise how strongly she wanted to live, knowing as she did what came after. But she wasn't ready to go yet, and there was no way that she would let some two bit vampire do her in. Gritting her teeth, Buffy forced her right arm to move. Just a twitch at first, then another, and then she grabbed something from her belt. Every movement was blinding agony, as flakes of skin and flesh fell off with every twitch, but finally she raised her arm.

The bane arrow sank into Annika's eye with no resistance, the wound gaping larger and larger until her head nearly split in two, before she burst into mist. Buffy collapsed through her foe, gasping for breath, her right arm falling uselessly limp as she grabbed her bleeding throat with her left. She watched her enemy slowly drift away to the north, back towards Ravengro.

Buffy staggered to her feet, sheathing her sword and throwing the vampire's mace into her bag of holding. She looked at the cloud of mist for a moment, and then back at Kendra, who still lay where she had left her. She was torn. If she left, she could follow the vampire and deal with all ten of them once and for all. If she stayed, she could make sure Kendra was alright. She hesitated for a long moment, and then she began to move.

She hated herself, but she couldn't let Annika get away. The last time she did, and the vampire had killed dozens of people to set the trap she had stumbled into, including her friend Petros. Kendra had been felled by fire, and wasn't actively bleeding. She was breathing well and was seemingly only falling unconscious when she had left her. Buffy could only pray to anything listening that she would survive long enough for Buffy to mark the vampires' nest and come back.

Buffy had never been so tired, or so injured. She was numb, her body pushed past all limits as she staggered on, her eyes locked on the cloud of mist as it drifted through the night sky. Stumbling over a rock, she whimpered in pain, before forcing herself to her feet. She would _not_ let them get away.

She kept moving, each step a lifetime of effort, each movement an impossibility, yet one she forced herself to do over and over again. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her spear, leaning on it like a crutch to keep going. One foot in front of the other.

One foot. Then the other.

The ground rushed up to meet her, but she never reached it.

Looking over, Buffy saw Kendra supporting her, gently wrapping her left arm over her shoulder as they walked. “Hey,” Buffy said, her voice a croak, before she returned her eyes to the nearly invisible vampire.

“I would ask if you were alright, but I suspect I know the answer,” Kendra said gently.

“Sorry,” Buffy mumbled, her lips numb, making it hard to form words.

“For what?”

“Left you.”

Kendra smiled at her gently. “I know. And I don't blame you. If you had checked on me, she would have gotten away, and we would be in the same situation tomorrow. You made the right call.”

“Still sorry.”

Kendra reached into her pouch and pulled out a vial. “This is my last healing potion. I drank my other ones, but I thought you could use this.”

“You drink.”

Kendra chuckled. “You can't even form complete sentences. I'm still sore, but nothing critical. On the other hand, the undead looked healthier than you do right now.” Opening the vial, she held it to Buffy's lips, and she drank it, the warmth barely beating back the terrible numbness, its departure bringing back the pain that she had been to injured too notice. Buffy groaned, before pushing it away. She would _not_ pass out.

“Let's hope they aren't too much further. Even as scrawny as you are, I don't relish carrying you, and I can't see her in the dark.”

“Thanks. And sorry.”

“And I already said, it was the correct decision,” Kendra said firmly.

“It might be, but... Three years ago, Willow was captured by the Mayor. We had the key to stopping him, and we traded it for her.”

“It's not the same situation. I _might_ have needed aid, while she _was_ being threatened. Even if I had died, I still wouldn't have resented you for your choice.”

“Still... who am I becoming? I was afraid being the slayer was making my heart turn to stone.”

“Fighting evil makes you hard. Heroes do it so that others don't have to. But I've seen you. Deep down, you still care, still love. You're a good person. You've just learned to make the hard calls when you need to.”

Buffy stayed quiet for the rest of the trip, until finally they stopped at a small farmhouse at the southern edge of Ravengro. The mist flowed through the cellar door, disappearing into the darkness. Opening the door, the two women staggered into the basement, Kendra pulling out and striking a fresh sun rod as they did.

The room was small and unfinished, and lying in the dirt along the far wall were nine cheap pine boxes, and a single well carved coffin. Pushing open the first lid, Buffy saw the fat vampire, his body whole as he lay as if dead. Buffy pulled out a stake and rammed it into his heart.

Moving from coffin to coffin, Buffy made short work of the minions, pretending to ignore the way Kendra flinched and looked away when she staked the children. It hurt her somewhere inside to do it, but she refused to let their appearance stop her. They were evil. She was the slayer. She slayed.

Finally, she reached Annika's coffin. Pushing the top off, she saw that, unlike the others, her red eyes were open, although she did not move. “She killed Petros. Do you wanna stake her?”

Kendra stood beside the coffin, looking at the undead sorceress for a long moment. “No. She isn't worth revenge. This has to be done, but she's just another vampire. Stake her.”

Buffy nodded, pulling out her stake. “No...” the vampire hissed, her body twitching slightly, her arms struggling to rise.

Buffy placed the wood against her chest, smiling at her coldly. “You're right. She's just another vamp.” She drove the stake home, and watched clinically as the vampire struggled to pull it out for a moment, until she went limp.

Slowly the two women dragged the vampires outside to await the sunrise, and by the time they did the sky was slowly turning gray. Buffy sat on the farm's porch, examining her ravaged arm. “Don't worry,” Kendra said. “If you can move it at all, then I'm certain Father Grimburrow can heal it.”

“I can move it, but I don't want to,” Buffy said, twitching a finger and wincing in pain.

The two sat quietly for a while, until Kendra finally broke the silence. “I've decided what I'm going to do.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I'm going to sell the house. This was painful, and terrifying, and generally quite awful, but after this experience, I cannot simply return to reading books and writing papers. I want to get out and do something with my life.”

Buffy smiled. “Cool. You'll do great.”

“Thank you. And I want you to see it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm going to go with you,” Kendra said with quiet resolve.

“If you go to my world, you might not be able to get back.”

“I know. But if I leave Ravengro, I may not ever return to it either. This way, I leave home with a friend, instead of alone. Besides, I want to see your world. It sounds fascinating. Petros mentioned something about... TV?”

Buffy just smiled, as the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, setting the vampires ablaze.

**Author's Notes**  
This is the last full chapter of this story (an epilogue follows), which has been based upon the adventure, the Haunting of Harrowstone. I said long ago that Annika would return, and she has (with a vengeance).

Annika used the spells fireball, phantasmal killer, scorching ray, magic missile, and dispel magic. Kendra cast magic circle against evil, true strike, acid arrow, dispel magic, levitate, and feather fall. That is a lot of magic. Plus, Annika used potions of haste, heroism, and bull's strength, and she had a Mace of Terror (which is now Buffy's).

My sister, shinysylver (http://shinysylver.livejournal.com/), helped me think of what Buffy's phantasmal killer imagery would be. That spell conjures an illusion of the most terrifying creature the target can imagine, which then touches them, giving them a heart attack from fear. Buffy's was an evil Buffy, one who had come back wrong, fully in the darkness like she had last seen Willow.

Only the epilogue remains! It's been quite a ride, hasn't it?


	18. Epilogue

**Disclaimer**  
I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

 

**Travelling Between the Angles**

 

Buffy stood on the hill beside the ruined prison, dressed in her favorite leather travel clothing, examining her gear one last time. Her new sword was at her side, and her bag of holding was on her other hip. Opening it, she saw that all of her favorite weapons and her most useful gear were on top, ready to easily grab if needed. Patting herself, she checked first her hair, and then all of her hidden knives and stakes, before finally adjusting her new green cloak.

It had been over two weeks since she had staked Annika, and in the time since not a single supernatural problem had plagued Ravengro. She had even returned one evening to the prison and poked around briefly, but her spidey-sense hadn't shown any activity. The town was safe, and the threat of Harrowstone had been averted forever.

After dealing with the vampires, Kendra had helped Buffy walk to the church, and the acolytes on duty had taken one look at them and had immediately summoned Father Grimburrow. For an hour every priest in town had poured healing magics into the two women, until finally even Buffy's arm was on the mend. She still had numerous scars from where the burns had reached bone, but they were easily hidden by her clothing, and she had lost no use of her limb, for which she would always be grateful.

By the next day word had spread about the resolution of the Harrowstone situation, and when the two women had left Kendra's home that afternoon they had been shocked to find themselves the guests of honor at an impromptu village festival. They had soon joined in, and had enjoyed a day of feasting, laughing, dancing, and telling tales. By the end, Buffy had drunk enough wine to be completely relaxed for the first time since her sister's death, and she would always remember the day fondly.

At the end of the evening, they had been led to an out of the way table, where the townsfolk had pitched in and put together a reward for their efforts. Buffy had wanted to decline, but Kendra had managed to convince her that refusing the gift would have been insulting, and so they had returned home that evening somewhat richer, and in possession of a number odd articles, such as homespun socks, her new cloak, some family heirloom jewelry, and even a live chicken.

Over the rest of the two weeks, Kendra had spent most of her time working on the Pnakotic Manuscripts, as well as arranging the sale of her home. She had spent her reward money and some of her savings purchasing a large bag of holding, and had filled it with books and possessions that she could not stand to be without.

Finally, by the time Buffy had received her money from Petros' will, Kendra had figured out a solution to her problem, which had led them to their remote location that overcast afternoon five months after she had arrived in Golarion. The diviner had spent the entire morning carefully drawing runes in a circle covering over twenty square feet of dirt, one of the still denuded areas where Annika's fireballs had scorched the earth being used as a canvas. Finally, Kendra finished her work and gestured for Buffy to approach.

“I have everything ready,” she said, giving the runes one last examination. “Are you prepared?”

“Yup,” Buffy answered, grinning, before turning serious. “Are you sure about this? My world is way different from this one.”

“I'm sure,” Kendra said confidently. “I have even prepared a rod attuned to this place, should I ever need to seek my own way home. Now then, this is fairly simple. I will stand here, in this cluster of runes, and you stand there, in that one. I will perform the ritual, but it will be up to you to compel the creature's service.”

“Let's pretend, for just a sec, that I totally zoned out when you explained everything, and that I have no clue what you're talking about.”

“Right, I'll 'pretend' I didn't notice the drool when I told you this before. The reason why it is so difficult to travel to most dimensions, is that our mortal magics are terribly imprecise for such things. Without knowing exactly where we are going, our attempts to plane shift tend to go awry. Dimensional shamblers, however, have no such limitation.”

“So you're gonna summon one of them?”

“Yes,” Kendra said, nodding soberly. “Unfortunately, dimensional shamblers are completely alien to our form of life, and nearly impossible to control. You will need a strong will to exert any influence over it, and you will need a clear picture in your mind of our destination. If you manage to do so, it should take us to the precise place you desire.”

“Right. Clear idea. Strong will.”

“If you waver for even a moment, we could end up anywhere in all of creation.”

“That sounds bad.”

“There are planes where, upon arrival, our souls would be instantly torn from everliving corpses along with our flayed skin, and we would then face an eternity of blood soaked nightmares.”

“Right. Bad.”

Kendra rolled her eyes. “I don't know why I even bother. Let us begin.” She pulled her mithral knife from her belt, and grabbed the chicken that they had received from the villagers.

“Hey, what are you doing to Mrs. Cluck?” Buffy asked, shocked.

“Mrs. Cluck?” Kendra began incredulously. “Wait. Never mind. To summon this particular dimensional shambler, I need to sacrifice a chicken with a knife of pure mithral in the middle of this properly prepared circle.”

“But... how can you kill Mrs. Cluck?”

Kendra stared at her for a long moment. “You had nearly a whole chicken for lunch yesterday. How can you be squeamish about this now?”

“But... that was cooked. I could pretend it came pre-made from the store, ready to eat.”

“I watched the farmer wring its neck before I butchered it and cooked it myself. You hunt monsters for a living. How can this bother you?”

Buffy pouted. “It just does.”

Kendra sighed. “Just look away or something.” Before Buffy could say anything else, she slit the bird's throat, letting the blood fall on certain runes. For a long moment nothing happened, and then slowly a strange figure faded into existence at the center of the circle between the two women. It stood more than seven feet tall, with more than half of its height being thin, stilt-like legs. It had a barrel chest, and from its broad shoulders hung long, thin arms that reached the ground with several feet to spare. The creature's hands had nearly a dozen fingers, each almost two foot long, and all tipped with eight inch, razor sharp claws. The head was a faceless, blank ball of flesh, connected to the creature's shoulders by a collection of external veins which almost resembled hair. The creature was naked, although its wrinkly, brick red body was covered in patches with external veins, pulsing with blood, making it almost appear to have been flayed alive

The dimensional shambler swayed awkwardly from side to side for a moment, before finally pointing its blank head towards Buffy. Despite lacking eyes, she could feel that it was somehow looking at her, and through her, in some disturbing way that she did not want to comprehend. Locking her gaze with its featureless head, she projected every bit of confidence she had, and spoke in a calm, though commanding tone. “I want to go to my home. Earth.” As she spoke, she concentrated, her mind focusing on Restfield cemetery in Sunnydale.

She felt the creature resisting her command, seeking to simply leave, but she would have none of it. Setting her jaw, Buffy focused hard, and after long moments, she felt it acquiesce. It hunched over, and slowly it began to fade away. A moment later, all of reality faded away with it.

**Author's Notes**  
And there you have it! The conclusion of Slayer of Harrowstone, my take on the Haunting of Harrowstone. If you want, you can interpret the ending as Buffy making it back to Sunnydale with her friend. My plans are for the trip to go wrong, and they end up having more adventures before she makes it home. However, I plan to take a break from this story, and if I don't get back to it anytime soon, I decided to leave this here, without it being a real cliffhanger.

I want to thank everyone who read this story, and especially those who left the wonderful reviews which helped me keep going. I also want to thank the various creators whose worlds I played in. Shoulders of giants.

I hope you all enjoyed this, and that you'll read my future work!


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